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Bibliomania in the Middle Ages

by F. Somner Merryweather · English · Gutenberg #21630 · 543,224 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Bibliomania in the Middle Ages

Author: F. Somner Merryweather


        
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BIBLIOMANIA

IN

THE MIDDLE AGES

BY

F. SOMNER MERRYWEATHER

_With an Introduction by_
CHARLES ORR
Librarian of Case Library



NEW YORK
MEYER BROTHERS & COMPANY
1900




Copyright, 1900
By Meyer Bros. & Co.




Louis Weiss & Co.
Printers....
118 Fulton Street
... New York




Bibliomania in the Middle Ages

OR

SKETCHES OF BOOKWORMS, COLLECTORS, BIBLE STUDENTS, SCRIBES AND
ILLUMINATORS

_From the Anglo-Saxon and Norman Periods to the Introduction of Printing
into England, with Anecdotes Illustrating the History of the Monastic
Libraries of Great Britain in the Olden Time by_ F. Somner Merryweather,
_with an Introduction by_ Charles Orr, _Librarian of Case Library._




INTRODUCTION.


In every century for more than two thousand years, many men have owed
their chief enjoyment of life to books. The bibliomaniac of today had his
prototype in ancient Rome, where book collecting was fashionable as early
as the first century of the Christian era. Four centuries earlier there
was an active trade in books at Athens, then the center of the book
production of the world. This center of literary activity shifted to
Alexandria during the third century B. C. through the patronage of
Ptolemy Soter, the founder of the Alexandrian Museum, and of his son,
Ptolemy Philadelphus; and later to Rome, where it remained for many
centuries, and where bibliophiles and bibliomaniacs were gradually
evolved, and from whence in time other countries were invaded.

For the purposes of the present work the middle ages cover the period
beginning with the seventh century and ending with the time of the
invention of printing, or about seven hundred years, though they are more
accurately bounded by the years 500 and 1500 A. D. It matters little,
however, since there is no attempt at chronological arrangement.

About the middle of the present century there began to be a disposition
to grant to mediæval times their proper place in the history of the
preservation and dissemination of books, and Merryweather's _Bibliomania
in the Middle Ages_ was one of the earliest works in English devoted to
the subject. Previous to that time, those ten centuries lying between the
fall of the Roman Empire and the revival of learning were generally
referred to as the Dark Ages, and historians and other writers were wont
to treat them as having been without learning or scholarship of any kind.

Even Mr. Hallam,[1] with all that judicial temperament and patient
research to which we owe so much, could find no good to say of the Church
or its institutions, characterizing the early university as the abode of
"indigent vagabonds withdrawn from usual labor," and all monks as
positive enemies of learning.

The gloomy survey of Mr. Hallam, clouded no doubt by his antipathy to all
things ecclesiastical, served, however, to arouse the interest of the
period, which led to other studies with different results, and later
writers were able to discern below the surface of religious fanaticism
and superstition so characteristic of those centuries, much of interest
in the history of literature; to show that every age produced learned and
inquisitive men by whom books were highly prized and industriously
collected for their own sakes; in short, to rescue the period from the
stigma of absolute illiteracy.

If the reader cares to pursue the subject further, after going through
the fervid defense of the love of books in the middle ages, of which this
is the introduction, he will find outside of its chapters abundant
evidence that the production and care of books was a matter of great
concern. In the pages of _Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith_, by Mr.
Kenelm Digby,[2] or of _The Dark Ages_, by Dr. S. R. Maitland,[3] or of
that great work of recent years, _Books and their Makers during the
Middle Ages_, by Mr. George Haven Putnam,[4] he will see vivid and
interesting portraits of a great multitude of mediæval worthies who were
almost lifelong lovers of learning and books, and zealous laborers in
preserving, increasing and transmitting them. And though little of the
mass that has come down to us was worthy of preservation on its own
account as literature, it is exceedingly interesting as a record of
centuries of industry in the face of such difficulties that to workers of
a later period might have seemed insurmountable.

A further fact worthy of mention is that book production was from the art
point of view fully abreast of the other arts during the period, as must
be apparent to any one who examines the collections in some of the
libraries of Europe. Much of this beauty was wrought for the love of the
art itself. In the earlier centuries religious institutions absorbed
nearly all the social intellectual movements as well as the possession of
material riches and land. Kings and princes were occupied with distant
wars which impoverished them and deprived literature and art of that
patronage accorded to it in later times. There is occasional mention,
however, of wealthy laymen, whose religious zeal induced them to give
large sums of money for the copying and ornamentation of books; and there
were in the abbeys and convents lay brothers whose fervent spirits,
burning with poetical imagination, sought in these monastic retreats and
the labor of writing, redemption from their past sins. These men of faith
were happy to consecrate their whole existence to the ornamentation of a
single sacred book, dedicated to the community, which gave them in
exchange the necessaries of life.

The labor of transcribing was held, in the monasteries, to be a full
equivalent of manual labor in the field. The rule of St. Ferreol, written
in the sixth century, says that, "He who does not turn up the earth with
the plough ought to write the parchment with his fingers."

Mention has been made of the difficulties under which books were
produced; and this is a matter which we who enjoy the conveniences of
modern writing and printing can little understand. The hardships of the
_scriptorium_ were greatest, of course, in winter. There were no fires in
the often damp and ill-lighted cells, and the cold in some of the parts
of Europe where books were produced must have been very severe.
Parchment, the material generally used for writing upon after the
seventh century, was at some periods so scarce that copyists were
compelled to resort to the expedient of effacing the writing on old and
less esteemed manuscripts.[5] The form of writing was stiff and regular
and therefore exceedingly slow and irksome.

In some of the monasteries the _scriptorium_ was at least at a later
period, conducted more as a matter of commerce, and making of books
became in time very profitable. The Church continued to hold the keys of
knowledge and to control the means of productions; but the cloistered
cell, where the monk or the layman, who had a penance to work off for a
grave sin, had worked in solitude, gave way to the apartment specially
set aside, where many persons could work together, usually under the
direction of a _librarius_ or chief scribe. In the more carefully
constructed monasteries this apartment was so placed as to adjoin the
calefactory, which allowed the introduction of hot air, when needed.

The seriousness with which the business of copying was considered is well
illustrated by the consecration of the _scriptorium_ which was often
done in words which may be thus translated: "Vouchsafe, O Lord, to bless
this work-room of thy servants, that all which they write therein may be
comprehended by their intelligence and realized in their work."

While the work of the scribes was largely that of copying the scriptures,
gospels, and books of devotion required for the service of the church,
there was a considerable trade in books of a more secular kind.
Particularly was this so in England. The large measure of attention given
to the production of books of legends and romances was a distinguishing
feature of the literature of England at least three centuries previous to
the invention of printing. At about the twelfth century and after, there
was a very large production and sale of books under such headings as
chronicles, satires, sermons, works of science and medicine, treatises on
style, prose romances and epics in verse. Of course a large proportion of
these were written in or translated from the Latin, the former indicating
a pretty general knowledge of that language among those who could buy or
read books at all. That this familiarity with the Latin tongue was not
confined to any particular country is abundantly shown by various
authorities.

Mr. Merryweather, whose book, as has been intimated, is only a defense
of bibliomania itself as it actually existed in the middle ages, gives
the reader but scant information as to processes of book-making at that
time. But thanks to the painstaking research of others, these details are
now a part of the general knowledge of the development of the book. The
following, taken from Mr. Theodore De Vinne's _Invention of Printing_,
will, we think, be found interesting:

"The size most in fashion was that now known as the demy folio, of which
the leaf is about ten inches wide and fifteen inches long, but smaller
sizes were often made. The space to be occupied by the written text was
mapped out with faint lines, so that the writer could keep his letters on
a line, at even distance from each other and within the prescribed
margin. Each letter was carefully drawn, and filled in or painted with
repeated touches of the pen. With good taste, black ink was most
frequently selected for the text; red ink was used only for the more
prominent words, and the catch-letters, then known as the rubricated
letters. Sometimes texts were written in blue, green, purple, gold or
silver inks, but it was soon discovered that texts in bright color were
not so readable as texts in black.

"When the copyist had finished his sheet he passed it to the designer,
who sketched the border, pictures and initials. The sheet was then given
to the illuminator, who painted it. The ornamentation of a mediæval book
of the first class is beyond description by words or by wood cuts. Every
inch of space was used. Its broad margins were filled with quaint
ornaments, sometimes of high merit, admirably painted in vivid colors.
Grotesque initials, which, with their flourishes, often spanned the full
height of the page, or broad bands of floriated tracery that occupied its
entire width, were the only indications of changes of chapter or subject.
In printer's phrase the composition was "close-up and solid" to the
extreme degree of compactness. The uncommonly free use of red ink for the
smaller initials was not altogether a matter of taste; if the page had
been written entirely in black ink it would have been unreadable through
its blackness. This nicety in writing consumed much time, but the
mediæval copyist was seldom governed by considerations of time or
expense. It was of little consequence whether the book he transcribed
would be finished in one or in ten years. It was required only that he
should keep at his work steadily and do his best. His skill is more to be
commended than his taste. Many of his initials and borders were
outrageously inappropriate for the text for which they were designed. The
gravest truths were hedged in the most childish conceits. Angels,
butterflies, goblins, clowns, birds, snails and monkeys, sometimes in
artistic, but much oftener in grotesque and sometimes in highly offensive
positions are to be found in the illuminated borders of copies of the
gospels and writings of the fathers.

"The book was bound by the forwarder, who sewed the leaves and put them
in a cover of leather or velvet; by the finisher, who ornamented the
cover with gilding and enamel. The illustration of book binding,
published by Amman in his Book of Trades, puts before us many of the
implements still in use. The forwarder, with his customary apron of
leather, is in the foreground, making use of a plow-knife for trimming
the edges of a book. The lying press, which rests obliquely against the
block before him, contains a book that has received the operation of
backing-up from a queer shaped hammer lying upon the floor. The workman
at the end of the room is sewing together the sections of a book, for
sewing was properly regarded as a man's work, and a scientific operation
altogether beyond the capacity of the raw seamstress. The work of the
finisher is not represented, but the brushes, the burnishers, the
sprinklers and the wheel-shaped gilding tools hanging against the wall
leave us no doubt as to their use. There is an air of antiquity about
everything connected with this bookbindery which suggests the thought
that its tools and usages are much older than those of printing.
Chevillier says that seventeen professional bookbinders found regular
employment in making up books for the University of Paris, as early as
1292. Wherever books were produced in quantities, bookbinding was set
apart as a business distinct from that of copying.

"The poor students who copied books for their own use were also obliged
to bind them, which they did in a simple but efficient manner by sewing
together the folded sheets, attaching them to narrow parchment bands, the
ends of which were made to pass through a cover of stout parchment at the
joint near the back. The ends of the bands were then pasted down under
the stiffening sheet of the cover, and the book was pressed. Sometimes
the cover was made flexible by the omission of the stiffening sheet;
sometimes the edges of the leaves were protected by flexible and
overhanging flaps which were made to project over the covers; or by the
insertion in the covers of stout leather strings with which the two
covers were tied together. Ornamentation was entirely neglected, for a
book of this character was made for use and not for show. These methods
of binding were mostly applied to small books intended for the pocket;
the workmanship was rough, but the binding was strong and serviceable."

The book of Mr. Merryweather, here reprinted, is thought worthy of
preservation in a series designed for the library of the booklover. Its
publication followed shortly after that of the works of Digby and
Maitland, but shows much original research and familiarity with early
authorities; and it is much more than either of these, or of any book
with which we are acquainted, a plea in defense of bibliomania in the
middle ages. Indeed the charm of the book may be said to rest largely
upon the earnestness with which he takes up his self-imposed task. One
may fancy that after all he found it not an easy one; in fact his
"Conclusion" is a kind of apology for not having made out a better case.
But this he believes he has proven, "that with all their superstition,
with all their ignorance, their blindness to philosophic light--the monks
of old were hearty lovers of books; that they encouraged learning,
fostered it, and transcribed repeatedly the books which they had rescued
from the destruction of war and time; and so kindly cherished and
husbanded them as intellectual food for posterity. Such being the case,
let our hearts look charitably upon them; and whilst we pity them for
their superstition, or blame them for their pious frauds, love them as
brother men and workers in the mines of literature."

Of the author himself little can be learned. A diligent search revealed
little more than the entry in the London directory which, in various
years from 1840 to 1850, gives his occupation as that of bookseller, at
14 King Street, Holborn. Indeed this is shown by the imprint of the
title-page of _Bibliomania_, which was published in 1849. He published
during the same year _Dies Dominicæ_, and in 1850 _Glimmerings in the
Dark_, and _Lives and Anecdotes of Misers_. The latter has been
immortalized by Charles Dickens as one of the books bought at the
bookseller's shop by Boffin, the Golden Dustman, and which was read to
him by the redoubtable Silas Wegg during Sunday evenings at "Boffin's
Bower."[6]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Hallam, Henry. "Introduction to the Literature of Europe." 4
    vols. London.

[2] Digby, Kenelm. "Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith." 3 vols.
    London, 1848.

[3] Maitland, S. R. "The Dark Ages; a Series of Essays Intended to
    Illustrate the State of Religion and Literature in the Ninth, Tenth,
    Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries." London, 1845.

[4] Putnam, George Haven. "Books and their Makers during the Middle
    Ages; a Study of the Conditions of the Production and Distribution
    of Literature from the Fall of the Roman Empire to the Close of the
    Seventeenth Century."

[5] Lacroix, Paul. "Arts of the Middle Ages." Our author, however
    (_vide_ page 58, _note_), quotes the accounts of the Church of
    Norwich to show that parchments sold late in the thirteenth century
    at about 1 d. per sheet; but Putnam and other writers state that up
    to that time it was a very costly commodity.

[6] Dickens's Mutual Friend.




CHAPTER I.

     _Introductory Remarks--Monachism--Book Destroyers--Effects of the
     Reformation on Monkish Learning, etc._


In recent times, in spite of all those outcries which have been so
repeatedly raised against the illiterate state of the dark ages, many and
valuable efforts have been made towards a just elucidation of those
monkish days. These labors have produced evidence of what few
anticipated, and some even now deny, viz., that here and there great
glimmerings of learning are perceivable; and although debased, and often
barbarous too, they were not quite so bad as historians have usually
proclaimed them. It may surprise some, however, that an attempt should be
made to prove that, in the olden time in "merrie Englande," a passion
which Dibdin has christened Bibliomania, existed then, and that there
were many cloistered bibliophiles as warm and enthusiastic in book
collecting as the Doctor himself. But I must here crave the patience of
the reader, and ask him to refrain from denouncing what he may deem a
rash and futile attempt, till he has perused the volume and thought well
upon the many facts contained therein. I am aware that many of these
facts are known to all, but some, I believe, are familiar only to the
antiquary--the lover of musty parchments and the cobwebbed chronicles of
a monastic age. I have endeavored to bring these facts together--to
connect and string them into a continuous narrative, and to extract from
them some light to guide us in forming an opinion on the state of
literature in those ages of darkness and obscurity; and here let it be
understood that I merely wish to give a fact as history records it. I
will not commence by saying the Middle Ages were dark and miserably
ignorant, and search for some poor isolated circumstance to prove it; I
will not affirm that this was pre-eminently the age in which real piety
flourished and literature was fondly cherished, and strive to find all
those facts which show its learning, purposely neglecting those which
display its unlettered ignorance: nor let it be deemed ostentation when I
say that the literary anecdotes and bookish memoranda now submitted to
the reader have been taken, where such a course was practicable, from
the original sources, and the references to the authorities from whence
they are derived have been personally consulted and compared.

That the learning of the Middle Ages has been carelessly represented
there can be little doubt: our finest writers in the paths of history
have employed their pens in denouncing it; some have allowed difference
of opinion as regards ecclesiastical policy to influence their
conclusions; and because the poor scribes were monks, the most licentious
principles, the most dismal ignorance and the most repulsive crimes have
been attributed to them. If the monks deserved such reproaches from
posterity, they have received no quarter; if they possessed virtues as
christians, and honorable sentiments as men, they have met with no reward
in the praise or respect of this liberal age: they were monks!
superstitious priests and followers of Rome! What good could come of
them? It cannot be denied that there were crimes perpetrated by men
aspiring to a state of holy sanctity; there are instances to be met with
of priests violating the rules of decorum and morality; of monks
revelling in the dissipating pleasures of sensual enjoyments, and of nuns
whose frail humanity could not maintain the purity of their virgin vows.
But these instances are too rare to warrant the slanders and scurrility
that historians have heaped upon them. And when we talk of the sensuality
of the monks, of their gross indulgences and corporeal ease, we surely do
so without discrimination; for when we speak of the middle ages thus, our
thoughts are dwelling on the sixteenth century, its mocking piety and
superstitious absurdity; but in the olden time of monastic rule, before
monachism had burst its ancient boundaries, there was surely nothing
physically attractive in the austere and dull monotony of a cloistered
life. Look at the monk; mark his hard, dry studies, and his midnight
prayers, his painful fasting and mortifying of the flesh; what can we
find in this to tempt the epicure or the lover of indolence and sloth?
They were fanatics, blind and credulous--I grant it. They read gross
legends, and put faith in traditionary lies--I grant it; but do not say,
for history will not prove it, that in the middle ages the monks were
wine bibbers and slothful gluttons. But let not the Protestant reader be
too hastily shocked. I am not defending the monastic system, or the
corruption of the cloister--far from it. I would see the usefulness of
man made manifest to the world; but the measure of my faith teaches
charity and forgiveness, and I can find in the functions of the monk much
that must have been useful in those dark days of feudal tyranny and
lordly despotism. We much mistake the influence of the monks by mistaking
their position; we regard them as a class, but forget from whence they
sprang; there was nothing aristocratic about them, as their constituent
parts sufficiently testify; they were, perhaps, the best representatives
of the people that could be named, being derived from all classes of
society. Thus Offa, the Saxon king, and Cædman, the rustic herdsman, were
both monks. These are examples by no means rare, and could easily be
multiplied. Such being the case, could not the monks more readily feel
and sympathize with all, and more clearly discern the frailties of their
brother man, and by kind admonition or stern reproof, mellow down the
ferocity of a Saxon nature, or the proud heart of a Norman tyrant? But
our object is not to analyze the social influence of Monachism in the
middle ages: much might be said against it, and many evils traced to the
sad workings of its evil spirit, but still withal something may be said
in favor of it, and those who regard its influence in _those days alone_
may find more to admire and defend than they expected, or their
Protestant prejudices like to own.

But, leaving these things, I have only to deal with such remains as
relate to the love of books in those times. I would show the means then
in existence of acquiring knowledge, the scarcity or plentitude of books,
the extent of their libraries, and the rules regulating them; and bring
forward those facts which tend to display the general routine of a
literary monk, or the prevalence of Bibliomania in those days.

It is well known that the great national and private libraries of Europe
possess immense collections of manuscripts, which were produced and
transcribed in the monasteries, during the middle ages, thousands there
are in the rich alcoves of the Vatican at Rome, unknown save to a choice
and favored few; thousands there are in the royal library of France, and
thousands too reposing on the dusty shelves of the Bodleian and Cottonian
libraries in England; and yet, these numbers are but a small portion--a
mere relic--of the intellectual productions of a past and obscure
age.[7] The barbarians, who so frequently convulsed the more civilized
portions of Europe, found a morbid pleasure in destroying those works
which bore evidence to the mental superiority of their enemies. In
England, the Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans were each successively
the destroyers of literary productions. The Saxon Chronicle, that
invaluable repository of the events of so many years, bears ample
testimony to numerous instances of the loss of libraries and works of
art, from fire, or by the malice of designing foes. At some periods, so
general was this destruction, so unquenchable the rapacity of those who
caused it, that instead of feeling surprised at the manuscripts of those
ages being so few and scanty, we have cause rather to wonder that so many
have been preserved. For even the numbers which escaped the hands of the
early and unlettered barbarians met with an equally ignominious fate from
those for whom it would be impossible to hold up the darkness of their
age as a plausible excuse for the commission of this egregious folly.
These men over whose sad deeds the bibliophile sighs with mournful
regret, were those who carried out the Reformation, so glorious in its
results; but the righteousness of the means by which those results were
effected are very equivocal indeed. When men form themselves into a
faction and strive for the accomplishment of one purpose, criminal deeds
are perpetrated with impunity, which, individually they would blush and
scorn to do; they feel no direct responsibility, no personal restraint;
and, such as possess fierce passions, under the cloak of an organized
body, give them vent and gratification; and those whose better feelings
lead them to contemplate upon these things content themselves with the
conclusion, that out of evil cometh good.

The noble art of printing was unable, with all its rapid movements, to
rescue from destruction the treasures of the monkish age; the advocates
of the Reformation eagerly sought for and as eagerly destroyed those old
popish volumes, doubtless there was much folly, much exaggerated
superstition pervading them; but there was also some truth, a few facts
worth knowing, and perhaps a little true piety also, and it would have
been no difficult matter to have discriminated between the good and the
bad. But the careless grants of a licentious monarch conferred a
monastery on a court favorite or political partizan without one thought
for the preservation of its contents. It is true a few years after the
dissolution of these houses, the industrious Leland was appointed to
search and rummage over their libraries and to preserve any relic worthy
of such an honor; but it was too late, less learned hands had rifled
those parchment collections long ago, mutilated their finest volumes by
cutting out with childish pleasure the illuminations with which they were
adorned; tearing off the bindings for the gold claps which protected the
treasures within,[8] and chopping up huge folios as fuel for their
blazing hearths, and immense collections were sold as waste paper. Bale,
a strenuous opponent of the monks, thus deplores the loss of their books:
"Never had we bene offended for the losse of our lybraryes beynge so many
in nombre and in so desolate places for the moste parte, yf the chief
monuments and moste notable workes of our excellent wryters had bene
reserved, yf there had bene in every shyre of Englande but one solemyne
library to the preservacyon of those noble workers, and preferrement of
good learnynges in oure posteryte it had bene yet somewhat. But to
destroye all without consyderacion, is and wyll be unto Englande for ever
a most horryble infamy amonge the grave senyours of other nations. A
grete nombre of them whych purchased those superstycyose mansyons
reserved of those lybrarye bokes, some to serve theyr jakes, some to
scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr bootes; some they
solde to the grossers and sope sellers, and some they sent over see to
the bokebynders,[9] not in small nombre, but at tymes _whole shippes
ful_. I know a merchant man, whyche shall at thys tyme be nameless, that
boughte the contents of two noble lybraryes for xl shyllyngs pryce, a
shame is it to be spoken. Thys stuffe hathe he occupyed in the stide of
graye paper for the space of more than these ten years, and yet hath
store ynough for as many years to come. A prodyguose example is this, and
to be abhorred of all men who love theyr natyon as they shoulde do."[10]

However pernicious the Roman religion might have been in its practice, it
argues little to the honor of the reformers to have used such means as
this to effect its cure; had they merely destroyed those productions
connected with the controversies of the day, we might perhaps have
excused it, on the score of party feeling; but those who were
commissioned to visit the public libraries of the kingdom were often men
of prejudiced intellects and shortsighted wisdom, and it frequently
happened that an ignorant and excited mob became the executioners of
whole collections.[11] It would be impossible now to estimate the loss.
Manuscripts of ancient and classic date would in their hands receive no
more respect than some dry husky folio on ecclesiastical policy; indeed,
they often destroyed the works of their own party through sheer
ignorance. In a letter sent by Dr. Cox to William Paget, Secretary, he
writes that the proclamation for burning books had been the occasion of
much hurt. "For New Testaments and Bibles (not condemned by proclamation)
have been burned, and that, out of parish churches and good men's houses.
They have burned innumerable of the king's majesties books concerning our
religion lately set forth."[12] The ignorant thus delighted to destroy
that which they did not understand, and the factional spirit of the more
enlightened would not allow them to make one effort for the preservation
of those valuable relics of early English literature, which crowded the
shelves of the monastic libraries; the sign of the cross, the use of red
letters on the title page, the illuminations representing saints, or the
diagrams and circles of a mathematical nature, were at all times deemed
sufficient evidence of their popish origin and fitness for the
flames.[13]

When we consider the immense number of MSS. thus destroyed, we cannot
help suspecting that, if they had been carefully preserved and examined,
many valuable and original records would have been discovered. The
catalogues of old monastic establishments, although containing a great
proportion of works on divine and ecclesiastical learning, testify that
the monks did not confine their studies exclusively to legendary tales or
superstitious missals, but that they also cultivated a taste for
classical and general learning. Doubtless, in the ruin of the sixteenth
century, many original works of monkish authors perished, and the
splendor of the transcript rendered it still more liable to destruction;
but I confess, as old Fuller quaintly says, that "there were many volumes
full fraught with superstition which, notwithstanding, might be useful to
learned men, except any will deny apothecaries the privilege of keeping
poison in their shops, when they can make antidotes of them. But besides
this, what beautiful bibles! Rare fathers! Subtle schoolmen! Useful
historians! Ancient! Middle! Modern! What painful comments were here
amongst them! What monuments of mathematics all massacred together!"[14]

More than a cart load of manuscripts were taken away from Merton College
and destroyed, and a vast number from the Baliol and New Colleges,
Oxford;[15] but these instances might be infinitely multiplied, so
terrible were those intemperate outrages. All this tends to enforce upon
us the necessity of using considerable caution in forming an opinion of
the nature and extent of learning prevalent during those ages which
preceded the discovery of the art of printing.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] The sad page in the Annals of Literary History recording the
    destruction of books and MSS. fully prove this assertion. In France,
    in the year 1790, 4,194,000 volumes were burnt belonging to the
    suppressed monasteries, about 25,000 of these were manuscripts.

[8] "About this time (Feb. 25, 1550) the Council book mentions the
    king's sending a letter for the purging his library at Westminster.
    The persons are not named, but the business was to cull out all
    superstitious books, as missals, legends, and such like, and to
    deliver the garniture of the books, being either gold or silver, to
    Sir Anthony Aucher. These books were many of them plated with gold
    and silver and curiously embossed. This, as far as we can collect,
    was the superstition that destroyed them. Here avarice had a very
    thin disguise, and the courtiers discovered of what spirit they were
    to a remarkable degree."--Collier's Eccle. History, vol. ii. p. 307.

[9] Any one who can inspect a library of ancient books will find
    proof of this. A collection of vellum scraps which I have derived
    from these sources are very exciting to a bibliomaniac, a choice
    line so abruptly broken, a monkish or classical verse so cruelly
    mutilated! render an inspection of this odd collection, a
    tantalizing amusement.

[10] Bale's Leland's Laboryouse Journey, Preface.

[11] The works of the Schoolmen, viz.: of P. Lombard, T. Aquinas,
     Scotus and his followers and critics also, and such that had popish
     scholars in them they cast out of all college libraries and private
     studies.--_Wood's Hist. Oxon._, vol. i. b. 1. p. 108. And "least
     their impiety and foolishness in this act should be further wanting,
     they brought it to pass that certain rude young men should carry
     this great spoil of books about the city on biers, which being so
     done, to set them down in the common market place, and then burn
     them, to the sorrow of many, as well as of the Protestants as of the
     other party. This was by them styled 'the funeral of Scotus the
     Scotists.' So that at this time and all this king's reign was seldom
     seen anything in the universities but books of poetry, grammar, idle
     songs, and frivolous stuff."--_Ibid., Wood is referring to the reign
     of Edward VI._

[12] Wood's Hist. Oxon, b. i. p. 81.

[13] "Gutch has printed in his 'Collectiana' an order from the
     Queen's commissioners to destroy all capes, vestments, albes,
     missals, books, crosses, and such other idolatrous and superstitious
     monuments whatsoever.'--vol. ii. p. 280."

[14] Fuller's Church History, b. vi. p. 335.

[15] Wood's Oxon, vol. i. b. i. p. 107




CHAPTER II.

     _Duties of the monkish librarian.--Rules of the library.--Lending
     books.--Books allowed the monks for private reading.--Ridiculous
     signs for books.--How the libraries were supported.--A monkish
     blessing on books, etc._


In this chapter I shall proceed to inquire into the duties of the monkish
amanuensis, and show by what laws and regulations the monastic libraries
were governed. The monotonous habits of a cloistered bibliophile will,
perhaps, appear dry and fastidious, but still it is curious and
interesting to observe how carefully the monks regarded their vellum
tomes, how indefatigably they worked to increase their stores, and how
eagerly they sought for books. But besides being regarded as a literary
curiosity, the subject derives importance by the light it throws on the
state of learning in those dark and "bookless" days, and the
illustrations gleaned in this way fully compensate for the tediousness of
the research.

As a bibliophile it is somewhat pleasing to trace a deep book passion
growing up in the barrenness of the cloister, and to find in some cowled
monk a bibliomaniac as warm and enthusiastic in his way as the renowned
"Atticus," or the noble Roxburghe, of more recent times. It is true we
can draw no comparison between the result of their respective labors. The
hundreds, which in the old time were deemed a respectable if not an
extensive collection, would look insignificant beside the ostentatious
array of modern libraries.

But the very tenor of a monastic life compelled the monk to seek the
sweet yet silent companionship of books; the rules of his order and the
regulations of his fraternity enforced the strictest silence in the
execution of his daily and never-ceasing duties. Attending mass, singing
psalms, and midnight prayers, were succeeded by mass, psalms and prayers
in one long undeviating round of yearly obligations; the hours
intervening between these holy exercises were dull and tediously
insupportable if unoccupied. Conversation forbidden, secular amusements
denounced, yet idleness reproached, what could the poor monk seek as a
relief in this distress but the friendly book; the willing and obedient
companion of every one doomed to lonely hours and dismal solitude?

The pride and glory of a monastery was a well stored library, which was
committed to the care of the armarian, and with him rested all the
responsibility of its preservation. According to the Consuetudines
Canonicorum Regularium, it was his duty to have all the books of the
monastery in his keeping catalogued and separately marked with their
proper names.[16] Some of these old catalogues have been preserved, and,
viewed as bibliographical remains of the middle ages, are of considerable
importance; indeed, we cannot form a correct idea of the literature of
those remote times without them. Many productions of authors are recorded
in these brief catalogues whose former existence is only known to us by
these means. There is one circumstance in connexion with them that must
not be forgotten: instead of enumerating all the works which each volume
contained, they merely specified the first, so that a catalogue of fifty
or a hundred volumes might probably have contained nearly double that
number of distinct works. I have seen MSS. formerly belonging to
monasteries, which have been catalogued in this way, containing four or
five others, besides the one mentioned. Designed rather to identify the
book than to describe the contents of each volume, they wrote down the
first word or two of the second leaf--this was the most prevalent usage;
but they often adopted other means, sometimes giving a slight notice of
the works which a volume contained; others took the precaution of noting
down the last word of the last leaf but one,[17] a great advantage, as
the monkish student could more easily detect at a glance whether the
volume was perfect. The armarian was, moreover, particularly enjoined to
inspect with scrupulous care the more ancient volumes, lest the
moth-worms should have got at them, or they had become corrupt or
mutilated, and, if such were the case, he was with great care to restore
them. Probably the armarian was also the bookbinder to the monastery in
ordinary cases, for he is here directed to cover the volumes with tablets
of wood, that the inside may be preserved from moisture, and the
parchment from the injurious effects of dampness. The different orders of
books were to be kept separate from one another, and conveniently
arranged; not squeezed too tight, lest it should injure or confuse them,
but so placed that they might be easily distinguished, and those who
sought them might find them without delay or impediment.[18]
Bibliomaniacs have not been remarkable for their memory or punctuality,
and in the early times the borrower was often forgetful to return the
volume within the specified time. To guard against this, many rules were
framed, nor was the armarian allowed to lend the books, even to
neighboring monasteries, unless he received a bond or promise to restore
them within a certain time, and if the person was entirely unknown, a
book of equal value was required as a security for its safe return. In
all cases the armarian was instructed to make a short memorandum of the
name of the book which he had lent or received. The "great and precious
books" were subject to still more stringent rules, and although under the
conservation of the librarian, he had not the privilege of lending them
to any one without the distinct permission of the abbot.[19] This was,
doubtless, practised by all the monastic libraries, for all generously
lent one another their books. In a collection of chapter orders of the
prior and convent of Durham, bearing date 1235, it is evident that a
similar rule was observed there, which they were not to depart from
except at the desire of the bishop.[20] According to the constitutions
for the government of the Abingdon monastery, the library was under the
care of the Cantor, and all the writings of the church were consigned to
his keeping. He was not allowed to part with the books or lend them
without a sufficient deposit as a pledge for their safe return, except to
persons of consequence and repute.[21] This was the practice at a much
later period. When that renowned bibliomaniac, Richard de Bury, wrote his
delightful little book called _Philobiblon_, the same rules were strictly
in force. With respect to the lending of books, his own directions are
that, if any one apply for a particular volume, the librarian was to
carefully consider whether the library contained another copy of it; if
so, he was at liberty to lend the book, taking care, however, that he
obtained a security which was to exceed the value of the loan; they were
at the same time to make a memorandum in writing of the name of the book,
and the nature of the security deposited for it, with the name of the
party to whom it was lent, with that of the officer or librarian who
delivered it.[22]

We learn by the canons before referred to, that the superintendence of
all the writing and transcribing, whether in or out of the monastery,
belonged to the office of the armarian, and that it was his duty to
provide the scribes with parchment and all things necessary for their
work, and to agree upon the price with those whom he employed. The monks
who were appointed to write in the cloisters he supplied with copies for
transcription; and that no time might be wasted, he was to see that a
good supply was kept up. No one was to give to another what he himself
had been ordered to write, or presume to do anything by his own will or
inclination. Nor was it seemly that the armarian even should give any
orders for transcripts to be made without first receiving the permission
of his superior.[23]

We here catch a glimpse of the quiet life of a monkish student, who
labored with this monotonous regularity to amass his little library. If
we dwell on these scraps of information, we shall discover some marks of
a love of learning among them, and the liberality they displayed in
lending their books to each other is a pleasing trait to dwell upon. They
unhesitatingly imparted to others the knowledge they acquired by their
own study with a brotherly frankness and generosity well becoming the
spirit of a student. This they did by extensive correspondence and the
temporary exchange of their books. The system of loan, which they in
this manner carried on to a considerable extent, is an important feature
in connection with our subject; innumerable and interesting instances of
this may be found in the monastic registers, and the private letters of
the times. The cheapness of literary productions of the present age
render it an absolute waste of time to transcribe a whole volume, and
except with books of great scarcity we seldom think of borrowing or
lending one; having finished its perusal we place it on the shelf and in
future regard it as a book of reference; but in those days one volume did
the work of twenty. It was lent to a neighboring monastery, and this
constituted its publication; for each monastery thus favored, by the aid
perhaps of some half dozen scribes, added a copy to their own library,
and it was often stipulated that on the return of the original a correct
duplicate should accompany it, as a remuneration to its author. Nor was
the volume allowed to remain unread; it was recited aloud at meals, or
when otherwise met together, to the whole community. We shall do well to
bear this in mind, and not hastily judge of the number of students by a
comparison with the number of their books. But it was not always a mere
single volume that the monks lent from their library. Hunter has
printed[24] a list of books lent by the Convent of Henton, A. D. 1343, to
a neighboring monastery, containing twenty volumes. The engagement to
restore these books was formally drawn up and sealed.

In the monasteries the first consideration was to see that the library
was well stored with those books necessary for the performance of the
various offices of the church, but besides these the library ought,
according to established rules, to contain for the "edification of the
brothers" such as were fit and needful to be consulted in common study.
The Bible and great expositors; _Bibliothecæ et majores expositores_,
books of martyrs, lives of saints, homilies, etc.;[25] these and other
large books the monks were allowed to take and study in private, but the
smaller ones they could only study in the library, lest they should be
lost or mislaid. This was also the case with respect to the rare and
choice volumes. When the armarian gave out books to the monks he made a
note of their nature, and took an exact account of their number, so that
he might know in a moment which of the brothers had it for perusal.[26]
Those who studied together were to receive what books they choose; but
when they had satisfied themselves, they were particularly directed to
restore them to their assigned places; and when they at any time received
from the armarian a book for their private reading, they were not allowed
to lend it to any one else, or to use it in common, but to reserve it
especially for his own private reading. The same rule extended to the
singers, who if they required books for their studies, were to apply to
the abbot.[27] The sick brothers were also entitled to the privilege of
receiving from the armarian books for their solace and comfort; but as
soon as the lamps were lighted in the infirmary the books were put away
till the morning, and if not finished, were again given out from the
library.[28] In the more ancient monasteries a similar case was observed
with respect to their books. The rule of St. Pacome directed that the
utmost attention should be paid to their preservation, and that when the
monks went to the refectory they were not to leave their books open, but
to carefully close and put them in their assigned places. The monastery
of St. Pacome contained a vast number of monks; every house, says
Mabillon, was composed of not less than forty monks, and the monastery
embraced thirty or forty houses. Each monk, he adds, possessed his book,
and few rested without forming a library; by which we may infer that the
number of books was considerable.[29] Indeed, it was quite a common
practice in those days, scarce as books were, to allow each of the monks
one or more for his private study, besides granting them access to the
library. The constitutions of Lanfranc, in the year 1072, directed the
librarian, at the commencement of Lent, to deliver a book to each of the
monks for their private reading, allowing them a whole year for its
perusal.[30] There is one circumstance connected with the affairs of the
library quite characteristic of monkish superstition, and bearing painful
testimony to their mistaken ideas of what constituted "good works." In
Martene's book there is a chapter, _De Scientia et Signis_--degrading and
sad; there is something withal curious to be found in it. After enjoining
the most scrupulous silence in the church, in the refectory, in the
cloister, and in the dormitory, at all times, and in all seasons;
transforming those men into perpetual mutes, and even when "actually
necessary," permitting only a whisper to be articulated "in a low voice
in the ear," _submissa voce in aure_, it then proceeds to describe a
series of fantastic grimaces which the monks were to perform on applying
to the armarian for books. The general sign for a book, _generali signi
libri_, was to "extend the hand and make a movement as if turning over
the leaves of a book." For a missal the monk was to make a similar
movement with a sign of the cross; for the gospels the sign of the cross
on the forehead; for an antiphon or book of responses he was to strike
the thumb and little finger of the other hand together; for a book of
offices or gradale to make the sign of a cross and kiss the fingers; for
a tract lay the hand on the abdomen and apply the other hand to the
mouth; for a capitulary make the general sign and extend the clasped
hands to heaven; for a psalter place the hands upon the head in the form
of a crown, such as the king is wont to wear.[31] Religious intolerance
was rampant when this rule was framed; hot and rancorous denunciation was
lavished with amazing prodigality against works of loose morality or
heathen origin; nor did the monks feel much compassion--although they
loved to read them--for the old authors of antiquity. Pagans they were,
and therefore fit only to be named as infidels and dogs, so the monk was
directed for a secular book, "which some pagan wrote after making the
general sign to scratch his ear with his hand, just as a dog itching
would do with his feet, because infidels are not unjustly compared to
such creatures--_quia nec immerito infideles tali animanti
contparantur_."[32] Wretched bigotry and puny malice! Yet what a sad
reflection it is, that with all the foul and heartburning examples which
those dark ages of the monks afford, posterity have failed to profit by
them--religious intolerance, with all its vain-glory and malice,
flourishes still, the cankering worm of many a Christian blossom! Besides
the duties which we have enumerated, there were others which it was the
province of the armarian to fulfil. He was particularly to inspect and
collate those books which, according to the decrees of the church, it was
unlawful to possess different from the authorized copies; these were the
bible, the gospels, missals, epistles, collects graduales, antiphons,
hymns, psalters, lessions, and the monastic rules; these were always to
be alike even in the most minute point.[33] He was moreover directed to
prepare for the use of the brothers short tables respecting the times
mentioned in the capitulary for the various offices of the church, to
make notes upon the matins, the mass, and upon the different orders.[34]
In fact, the monkish amanuensis was expected to undertake all those
matters which required care and learning combined. He wrote the letters
of the monastery, and often filled the office of secretary to my Lord
Abbot. In the monasteries of course the services of the librarian were
unrequited by any pecuniary remuneration, but in the cathedral libraries
a certain salary was sometimes allowed them. Thus we learn that the
amanuensis of the conventual church of Ely received in the year 1372
forty-three shillings and fourpence for his annual duties;[35] and
Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, in the tenth century, gave considerable
landed possessions to a monk of that church as a recompense for his
services as librarian.[36] In some monasteries, in the twelfth century,
if not earlier, they levied a tax on all the members of the community,
who paid a yearly sum to the librarian for binding, preserving, and
purchasing copies for the library. One of these rules, bearing date 1145,
was made by Udon, Abbot of St. Père en Vallée à Chantres, and that it
might be more plausibly received, he taxed himself as well as all the
members of his own house.[37] The librarian sometimes, in addition to his
regular duties, combined the office of precentor to the monastery.[38]
Some of their account-books have been preserved, and by an inspection of
them, we may occasionally gather some interesting and curious hints, as
to the cost of books and writing materials in those times. As may be
supposed, the monkish librarians often became great bibliophiles, for
being in constant communication with choice manuscripts, they soon
acquired a great mania for them. Posterity are also particularly indebted
to the pens of these book conservators of the middle ages; for some of
the best chroniclers and writers of those times were humble librarians to
some religious house.

Not only did the bibliophiles of old exercise the utmost care in the
preservation of their darling books, but the religious basis of their
education and learning prompted them to supplicate the blessing of God
upon their goodly tomes. Although I might easily produce other instances,
one will suffice to give an idea of their nature: "O Lord, send the
virtue of thy Holy Spirit upon these our books; that cleansing them from
all earthly things, by thy holy blessing, they may mercifully enlighten
our hearts and give us true understanding; and grant that by thy
teaching, they may brightly preserve and make full an abundance of good
works according to thy will."[39]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Cap. xxi. Martene de Antiquis Ecclesiæ Ritibus, tom. iii. p.
     262.

[17] See Catalogue of Hulne Abbey, Library MS. Harleian. No. 3897.

[18] Martene de Antiq. Eccle. Rit., tom. iii. p. 263.

[19] _Ibid._ Ingulphus tells us that the same rule was observed in
     Croyland Abbey.--_Apud Gale_, p. 104.

[20] Marked b. iv. 26. Surtee Publications, vol. i. p. 121.

[21] Const. admiss. Abbat, et gubernatione Monast. Abendum Cottonian
     M.S. Claudius, b. vi. p. 194.

[22] Philobiblon, 4to. _Oxon_, 1599, chap. xix.

[23] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ribibus, tom. iii. p. 263. For an
     inattention to this the Council of Soissons, in 1121, ordered some
     transcripts of Abelard's works to be burnt, and severely reproved
     the author for his unpardonable neglect.--_Histoire Littéraire de la
     France_, tom. ix. p. 28.

[24] Catalogues of Monastic Libraries, pp. 16, 17.

[25] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[26] _Ibid._

[27] _Ibid._, tom. iii. cap. xxxvi. pp. 269, 270.

[28] Martene, tom. iii. p. 331. For a list of some books applied to
     their use, see MS. Cot. Galba, c. iv. fo. 128.

[29] Mabillon, Traité des Etudes Monastiques, 4to. _Paris_ 1691,
     cap. vi. p. 34.

[30] Wilkin's Concil. tom. i. p. 332.

[31] Stat. pro Reform. ordin. Grandimont. ap. Martene cap. x.

[32] _Ibid._, tom. iv. pp. 289, 339.

[33] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[34] _Ibid._, cap. xxi. p. 263.

[35] Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the Church of Ely, p.
     51.

[36] Thomas' Survey of the Church of Worcester, p. 45.

[37] Mabillon. Annal. tom. vi. pp. 651 and 652. Hist. Litt. de la
     France, ix. p. 140.

[38] They managed the pecuniary matters of the fraternity. William
     of Malmsbury was precentor as well as librarian to his monastery.

[39] Martene de Antiq. Eccl. Ritibus ii. p. 302.




CHAPTER III.

     _Scriptoria and the Scribes.--Care in copying.--Bible reading
     among the monks.--Booksellers in the middle ages.--Circulating
     libraries.--Calligraphic art, etc._


As the monasteries were the schools of learning, so their occupants were
the preservers of literature, and, as Herault observes, had they not
taken the trouble to transcribe books, the ancients had been lost to us
for ever; to them, therefore, we owe much. But there are many, however,
who suppose that the monastic establishments were hotbeds of superstition
and fanaticism, from whence nothing of a useful or elevated nature could
possibly emanate. They are too apt to suppose that the human intellect
must be altogether weak and impotent when confined within such narrow
limits; but truth and knowledge can exist even in the dark cells of a
gloomy cloister, and inspire the soul with a fire that can shed a light
far beyond its narrow precincts. Indeed, I scarce know whether to
regret, as some appear to do, that the literature and learning of those
rude times was preserved and fostered by the Christian church; it is
said, that their strict devotion and religious zeal prompted them to
disregard all things but a knowledge of those divine, but such is not the
case; at least, I have not found it so; it is true, as churchmen, they
were principally devoted to the study of divine and ecclesiastical lore;
but it is also certain that in that capacity they gradually infused the
mild spirit of their Master among the darkened society over which they
presided, and among whom they shone as beacons of light in a dreary
desert. But the church did more than this. She preserved to posterity the
profane learnings of Old Greece and Rome; copied it, multiplied it, and
spread it. She recorded to after generations in plain, simple language,
the ecclesiastical and civil events of the past, for it is from the terse
chronicles of the monkish churchmen that we learn now the history of what
happened then. Much as we may dislike the monastic system, the cold,
heartless, gloomy ascetic atmosphere of the cloister, and much as we may
deplore the mental dissipation of man's best attributes, which the system
of those old monks engendered, we must exercise a cool and impartial
judgment, and remember that what now would be intolerable and monstrously
inconsistent with our present state of intellectuality, might at some
remote period, in the ages of darkness and comparative barbarism, have
had its virtues and beneficial influences. As for myself, it would be
difficult to convince me, with all those fine relics of their deeds
before me, those beauteous fanes dedicated to piety and God, those
libraries so crowded with their vellum tomes, so gorgeously adorned, and
the abundant evidence which history bears to their known charity and
hospitable love, that these monks and their system was a scheme of dismal
barbarism; it may be so, but my reading has taught me different; but, on
the other hand, although the monks possessed many excellent qualities,
being the encouragers of literature, the preservers of books, and
promulgators of civilization, we must not hide their numerous and
palpable faults, or overlook the poison which their system of monachism
_ultimately_ infused into the very vitals of society. In the early
centuries, before the absurdities of Romanism were introduced, the
influence of the monastic orders was highly beneficial to our Saxon
ancestors, but in after ages the Church of England was degraded by the
influence of the fast growing abominations of Popedom. She drank
copiously of the deadly potion, and became the blighted and ghostly
shadow of her former self. Forgetting the humility of her divine Lord,
she sought rather to imitate the worldly splendor and arrogance of her
Sovereign Pontiff. The evils too obviously existed to be overlooked; but
it is not my place to further expose them; a more pleasing duty guides my
pen; others have done all this, lashing them painfully for their oft-told
sins. Frail humanity glories in chastizing the frailty of brother man.
But we will not denounce them here, for did not the day of retribution
come? And was not justice satisfied? Having made these few preliminary
remarks, let us, in a brief manner, inquire into the system observed in
the cloisters by the monks for the preservation and transcription of
manuscripts. Let us peep into the quiet cells of those old monks, and see
whether history warrants the unqualified contempt which their efforts in
this department have met with.

In most monasteries there were two kinds of Scriptoria, or writing
offices; for in addition to the large and general apartment used for the
transcription of church books and manuscripts for the library, there were
also several smaller ones occupied by the superiors and the more learned
members of the community, as closets for private devotion and study. Thus
we read, that in the Cistercian orders there were places set apart for
the transcription of books called Scriptoria, or cells assigned to the
scribes, "separate from each other," where the books might be transcribed
in the strictest silence, according to the holy rules of their
founders.[40] These little cells were usually situated in the most
retired part of the monastery, and were probably incapable of
accommodating more than one or two persons;[41] dull and comfortless
places, no doubt, yet they were deemed great luxuries, and the use of
them only granted to such as became distinguished for their piety, or
erudition. We read that when David went to the Isle of Wight, to
Paulinus, to receive his education, he used to sup in the Refectory, but
had a Scriptorium, or study, in his cell, being a famous scribe.[42] The
aged monks, who often lived in these little offices, separate from the
rest of the scribes, were not expected to work so arduously as the rest.
Their employment was comparatively easy; nor were they compelled to work
so long as those in the cloister.[43] There is a curious passage in
Tangmar's Life of St. Bernward, which would lead us to suspect that
private individuals possessed Scriptoria; for, says he, there are
Scriptoria, not only in the monasteries, but in other places, in which
are conceived books equal to the divine works of the philosophers.[44]
The Scriptorium of the monastery in which the general business of a
literary nature was transacted, was an apartment far more extensive and
commodious, fitted up with forms and desks methodically arranged, so as
to contain conveniently a great number of copyists. In some of the
monasteries and cathedrals, they had long ranges of seats one after
another, at which were seated the scribes, one well versed in the subject
on which the book treated, recited from the copy whilst they wrote; so
that, on a word being given out by him, it was copied by all.[45] The
multiplication of manuscripts, under such a system as this, must have
been immense; but they did not always make books, _fecit libros_, as
they called it, in this wholesale manner, but each monk diligently
labored at the transcription of a separate work.

The amount of labor carried on in the Scriptorium, of course, in many
cases depended upon the revenues of the abbey, and the disposition of the
abbot; but this was not always the case, as in some monasteries they
undertook the transcription of books as a matter of commerce, and added
broad lands to their house by the industry of their pens. But the
Scriptorium was frequently supported by resources solely applicable to
its use. Laymen, who had a taste for literature, or who entertained an
esteem for it in others, often at their death bequeathed estates for the
support of the monastic Scriptoria. Robert, one of the Norman leaders,
gave two parts of the tythes of Hatfield, and the tythes of Redburn, for
the support of the Scriptorium of St. Alban's.[46] The one belonging to
the monastery of St. Edmundsbury was endowed with two mills,[47] and in
the church of Ely there is a charter of Bishof Nigellus, granting to the
Scriptorium of the monastery the tythes of Wythessey and Impitor, two
parts of the tythes of the Lordship of Pampesward, with 2s. 2d., and a
messuage in Ely _ad faciendos et emandandos libros_.[48]

The abbot superintended the management of the Scriptorium, and decided
upon the hours for their labor, during which time they were ordered to
work with unremitting diligence, "not leaving to go and wander in
idleness," but to attend solely to the business of transcribing. To
prevent detraction or interruption, no one was allowed to enter except
the abbot, the prior, the sub-prior, and the armarian,[49] as the latter
took charge of all the materials and implements used by the transcribers,
it was his duty to prepare and give them out when required; he made the
ink and cut the parchment ready for use. He was strictly enjoined,
however, to exercise the greatest economy in supplying these precious
materials, and not to give more copies "nec artavos, nec cultellos, nec
scarpellæ, nec membranes," than was actually necessary, or than he had
computed as sufficient for the work; and what the armarian gave them the
monks were to receive without contradiction or contention.[50]

The utmost silence prevailed in the Scriptorium; rules were framed, and
written admonitions hung on the walls, to enforce the greatest care and
diligence in copying exactly from the originals. In Alcuin's works we
find one of these preserved; it is a piece inscribed "_Ad Musæum libros
scribentium_;" the lines are as follows:

    "Hic sideant sacræ scribentes famina legis,
      Nec non sanctorum dicta sacrata Patrum,
    Hæc interserere caveant sua frivola verbis,
      Frivola nec propter erret et ipsa manus:

    Correctosque sibi quærant studiose libellos,
      Tramite quo recto penna volantis eat.
    Per cola distinquant proprios, et commata sensus,
      Et punctos ponant ordine quosque suo.

    Ne vel falsa legat, taceat vel forte repente,
      Ante pios fratres, lector in Ecclesia.
    Est opus egregium sacros jam scribete libros,
      Nec mercede sua scriptor et ipse caret.

    Fodere quam vites, melius est scribere libros,
      Ille suo ventri serviet, iste animæ.
    Vel nova, vel vetera poterit proferre magister
      Plurima, quisque legit dicta sacrata Patrum."[51]

Other means were resorted to besides these to preserve the text of their
books immaculate, it was a common practice for the scribe at the end of
his copy, to adjure all who transcribed from it to use the greatest care,
and to refrain from the least alteration of word or sense. Authors more
especially followed this course, thus at the end of some we find such
injunctions as this.

"I adjure you who shall transcribe this book, by our Lord Jesus Christ
and by his glorious coming, who will come to judge the quick and the
dead, that you compare what you transcribe and diligently correct it by
the copy from which you transcribe it--this adjuration also--and insert
it in your copy."[52]

The Consuetudines Canonicorum, before referred to, also particularly
impressed this upon the monks, and directed that all the brothers who
were engaged as scribes, were not to alter any writing, although in their
own mind they might think it proper, without first receiving the sanction
of the abbot, "_on no account were they to commit so great a
presumption_."[53] But notwithstanding that the scribes were thus
enjoined to use the utmost care in copying books, doubtless an occasional
error crept in, which many causes might have produced, such as bad light,
haste, a little drowsiness, imperfect sight, or even a flickering lamp
was sufficient to produce some trivial error; but in works of importance
the smallest error is of consequence, as some future scribe puzzled by
the blunder, might, in an attempt to correct, still more augment the
imperfection; to guard against this, with respect to the Scriptures, the
most critical care was enforced. Monks advanced in age were alone allowed
to transcribe them, and after their completion they were
read--revised--and reread again, and it is by that means that so uniform
a reading has been preserved, and although slight differences may here
and there occur, there are no books which have traversed through the
shadows of the dark ages, that preserve their original text so pure and
uncorrupt as the copies of the Scriptures, the fathers of the church, and
the ancient writings of the classic authors; sometimes, it is true, a
manuscript of the last order is discovered possessing a very different
reading in some particular passage; but these appear rather as futile
emendations or interpolations of the scribe than as the result of a
downright blunder, and are easily perceivable, for when the monkish
churchmen tampered with ancient copies, it generally originated in a
desire to smooth over the indecencies of the heathen authors, and so
render them less liable to corrupt the holy contemplations of the
devotee; and while we blame the pious fraud, we cannot but respect the
motive that dictated it.

But as regards the Scriptures, we talk of the carelessness of the monks
and the interpolations of the scribes as if these were faults peculiar to
the monastic ages alone; alas! the history of Biblical transmission tells
us differently, the gross perversions, omissions, and errors wrought in
the holy text, proclaim how prevalent these same faults have been in the
ages of _printed literature_, and which appear more palpable by being
produced amidst deep scholars, and surrounded with all the critical
acumen of a learned age. Five or six thousand of these gross blunders, or
these wilful mutilations, protest the unpleasant fact, and show how much
of human grossness it has acquired, and how besmeared with corruption
those sacred pages have become in passing through the hands of man, and
the "revisings" of sectarian minds. I am tempted to illustrate this by an
anecdote related by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange of Hunstanton, and preserved
in a MS. in the Harlein collection.--"Dr. Usher, Bish. of Armath, being
to preach at Paules Crosse and passing hastily by one of the stationers,
called for a Bible, and had a little one of the London edition given him
out, but when he came to looke for his text, that very verse was omitted
in the print: which gave the first occasion of complaint to the king of
the insufferable negligence, and insufficience of the London printers and
presse, and bredde that great contest that followed, betwixt the univers.
of Cambridge and London stationers, about printing of the Bibles."[54]
Gross and numerous indeed were the errors of the corrupt bible text of
that age, and far exceeding even the blunders of monkish pens, and
certainly much less excusable, for in those times they seldom had a large
collection of codices to compare, so that by studying their various
readings, they could arrive at a more certain and authentic version. The
paucity of the sacred volume, if it rendered their pens more liable to
err, served to enforce upon them the necessity of still greater scrutiny.
On looking over a monastic catalogue, the first volume that I search for
is the Bible; and, I feel far more disappointment if I find it not there,
than I do at the absence of Horace or Ovid--there is something so
desolate in the idea of a Christian priest without the Book of Life--of a
minister of God without the fountain of truth--that however favorably we
may be prone to regard them, a thought will arise that the absence of
this sacred book may perhaps be referred to the indolence of the monkish
pen, or to the laxity of priestly piety. But such I am glad to say was
not often the case; the Bible it is true was an expensive book, but can
scarcely be regarded as a rare one; the monastery was indeed poor that
had it not, and when once obtained the monks took care to speedily
transcribe it. Sometimes they only possessed detached portions, but when
this was the case they generally borrowed of some neighboring and more
fortunate monastery, the missing parts to transcribe, and so complete
their own copies. But all this did not make the Bible less loved among
them, or less anxiously and ardently studied, they devoted their days,
and the long hours of the night, to the perusal of those pages of
inspired truth,[55] and it is a calumny without a shadow of foundation to
declare that the monks were careless of scripture reading; it is true
they did not apply that vigor of thought, and unrestrained reflection
upon it which mark the labors of the more modern student, nor did they
often venture to interpret the hidden meaning of the holy mysteries by
the powers of their own mind, but were guided in this important matter by
the works of the fathers. But hence arose a circumstance which gave full
exercise to their mental powers and compelled the monk in spite of his
timidity to think a little for himself. Unfortunately the fathers,
venerable and venerated as they were, after all were but men, with many
of the frailties and all the fallabilities of poor human nature; the pope
might canonize them, and the priesthood bow submissively to their
spiritual guidance, still they remained for all that but mortals of dust
and clay, and their bulky tomes yet retain the swarthiness of the tomb
about them, the withering impress of humanity. Such being the case we,
who do not regard them quite so infallible, feel no surprise at a
circumstance which sorely perplexed the monks of old, they unchained and
unclasped their cumbrous "Works of the Fathers," and pored over those
massy expositions with increasing wonder; surrounded by these holy
guides, these fathers of infallibility, they were like strangers in a
foreign land, did they follow this holy saint they seemed about to
forsake the spiritual direction of one having equal claims to their
obedience and respect; alas! for poor old weak tradition, those
fabrications of man's faulty reason were found, with all their orthodoxy,
to clash woefully in scriptural interpretation. Here was a dilemma for
the monkish student! whose vow of obedience to patristical guidance was
thus sorely perplexed; he read and re-read, analyzed passage after
passage, interpreted word after word; and yet, poor man, his laborious
study was fruitless and unprofitable! What bible student can refrain from
sympathizing with him amidst these torturing doubts and this crowd of
contradiction, but after all we cannot regret this, for we owe to it more
than my feeble pen can write, so immeasurable have been the fruits of
this little unheeded circumstance. It gave birth to many a bright
independent declaration, involving pure lines of scripture
interpretation, which appear in the darkness of those times like fixed
stars before us; to this, in Saxon days, we are indebted for the labors
of Ælfric and his anti-Roman doctrines, whose soul also sympathized with
a later age by translating portions of the Bible into the vulgar tongue,
thus making it accessible to all classes of the people. To this we are
indebted for all the good that resulted from those various heterodoxies
and heresies, which sometimes disturbed the church during the dark ages;
but which wrought much ultimate good by compelling the thoughts of men to
dwell on these important matters. Indeed, to the instability of the
fathers, as a sure guide, we may trace the origin of all those efforts of
the human mind, which cleared the way for the Reformation, and relieved
man from the shackles of these spiritual guides of the monks.

But there were many cloistered Christians who studied the bible
undisturbed by these shadows and doubts, and who, heedless of patristical
lore and saintly wisdom, devoured the spiritual food in its pure and
uncontaminating simplicity--such students, humble, patient, devoted, will
be found crowding the monastic annals, and yielding good evidence of the
same by the holy tenor of their sinless lives, their Christian charity
and love.

But while so many obtained the good title of an "_Amator Scripturarum_,"
as the bible student was called in those monkish days, I do not pretend
to say that the Bible was a common book among them, or that every monk
possessed one--far different indeed was the case--a copy of the Old and
New Testament often supplied the wants of an entire monastery, and in
others, as I have said before, only some detached portions were to be
found in their libraries. Sometimes they were more plentiful, and the
monastery could boast of two or three copies, besides a few separate
portions, and occasionally I have met with instances where besides
several _Biblia Optima_, they enjoyed Hebrew codices and translations,
with numerous copies of the gospels. We must not forget, however, that
the transcription of a Bible was a work of time, and required the outlay
of much industry and wealth. "Brother Tedynton," a monk of Ely, commenced
a Bible in 1396, and was several years before he completed it. The
magnitude of the undertaking can scarcely be imagined by those
unpractised in the art of copying, but when the monk saw the long labor
of his pen before him, and looked upon the well bound strong clasped
volumes, with their clean vellum folios and fine illuminations, he seemed
well repaid for his years of toil and tedious labor, and felt a glow of
pious pleasure as he contemplated his happy acquisition, and the comfort
and solace which he should hereafter derive from its holy pages! We are
not surprised then, that a Bible in those days should be esteemed so
valuable, and capable of realizing a considerable sum. The monk,
independent of its spiritual value, regarded it as a great possession,
worthy of being bestowed at his death, with all the solemnity of a
testamentary process, and of being gratefully acknowledged by the fervent
prayers of the monkish brethren. Kings and nobles offered it as an
appropriate and generous gift, and bishops were deemed benefactors to
their church by adding it to the library. On its covers were written
earnest exhortations to the Bible student, admonishing the greatest care
in its use, and leveling anathemas and excommunications upon any one who
should dare to purloin it. For its greater security it was frequently
chained to a reading desk, and if a duplicate copy was lent to a
neighboring monastery they required a large deposit, or a formal bond
for its safe return.[56] These facts, while they show its value, also
prove how highly it was esteemed among them, and how much the monks loved
the Book of Life.

But how different is the picture now--how opposite all this appears to
the aspect of bible propagation in our own time. Thanks to the
printing-press, to bible societies, and to the benevolence of God, we
cannot enter the humblest cottage of the poorest peasant without
observing the Scriptures on his little shelf--not always read, it is
true--nor always held in veneration as in the old days before us--its
very plentitude and cheapness takes off its attraction to irreligious and
indifferent readers, but to poor and needy Christians what words can
express the fulness of the blessing. Yet while we thank God for this
great boon, let us refrain from casting uncharitable reflections upon the
monks for its comparative paucity among them. If its possession was not
so easily acquired, they were nevertheless true lovers of the Bible, and
preserved and multiplied it in dark and troublous times.

Our remarks have hitherto applied to the monastic scribes alone; but it
is necessary here to speak of the secular copyists, who were an important
class during the middle ages, and supplied the functions of the
bibliopole of the ancients. But the transcribing trade numbered three or
four distinct branches. There were the Librarii Antiquarii, Notarii, and
the Illuminators--occasionally these professions were all united in
one--where perseverance or talent had acquired a knowledge of these
various arts. There appears to have been considerable competition between
these contending bodies. The notarii were jealous of the librarii, and
the librarii in their turn were envious of the antiquarii, who devoted
their ingenuity to the transcription and repairing of old books
especially, rewriting such parts as were defective or erased, and
restoring the dilapidations of the binding. Being learned in old writings
they corrected and revised the copies of ancient codices; of this class
we find mention as far back as the time of Cassiodorus and Isidore.[57]
"They deprived," says Astle, "the poor librarii, or common scriptores, of
great part of their business, so that they found it difficult to gain a
subsistence for themselves and their families. This put them about
finding out more expeditious methods of transcribing books. They formed
the letters smaller, and made use of more conjugations and abbreviations
than had been usual. They proceeded in this manner till the letters
became exceedingly small and extremely difficult to be read."[58] The
fact of there existing a class of men, whose fixed employment or
profession was solely confined to the transcription of ancient writings
and to the repairing of tattered copies, in contradistinction to the
common scribes, and depending entirely upon the exercise of their art as
a means of obtaining a subsistence, leads us to the conclusion that
ancient manuscripts were by no means so very scarce in those days; for
how absurd and useless it would have been for men to qualify themselves
for transcribing these antiquated and venerable codices, if there had
been no probability of obtaining them to transcribe. The fact too of its
becoming the subject of so much competition proves how great was the
demand for their labor.[59]

We are unable, with any positive result, to discover the exact origin of
the secular scribes, though their existence may probably be referred to a
very remote period. The monks seem to have monopolized for some ages the
"_Commercium Librorum_,"[60] and sold and bartered copies to a
considerable extent among each other. We may with some reasonable
grounds, however, conjecture that the profession was flourishing in Saxon
times; for we find several eminent names in the seventh and eighth
centuries who, in their epistolary correspondence, beg their friends to
procure transcripts for them. Benedict, Bishop of Wearmouth, purchased
most of his book treasures at Rome, which was even at that early period
probably a famous mart for such luxuries, as he appears to have journeyed
there for that express purpose. Some of the books which he collected were
presents from his foreign friends; but most of them, as Bede tells us,
were _bought_ by himself, or in accordance with his instructions, by his
friends.[61] Boniface, the Saxon missionary, continually writes for books
to his associates in all parts of Europe. At a subsequent period the
extent and importance of the profession grew amazingly; and in Italy its
followers were particularly numerous in the tenth century, as we learn
from the letters of Gerbert, afterwards Silvester II., who constantly
writes, with the cravings of a bibliomaniac, to his friends for books,
and begs them to get the scribes, who, he adds, in one of his letters,
may be found in all parts of Italy,[62] both in town and in the country,
to make transcripts of certain books for him, and he promises to
reimburse his correspondent all that he expends for the same.

These public scribes derived their principal employment from the monks
and the lawyers; from the former in transcribing their manuscripts, and
by the latter in drawing up their legal instruments. They carried on
their avocation at their own homes like other artisans; but sometimes
when employed by the monks executed their transcripts within the
cloister, where they were boarded, lodged, and received their wages till
their work was done. This was especially the case when some great book
was to be copied, of rarity and price; thus we read of Paulinus, of St.
Albans, sending into distant parts to obtain proficient workmen, who were
paid so much per diem for their labor; their wages were generously
supplied by the Lord of Redburn.[63]

The increase of knowledge and the foundation of the universities gave
birth to the booksellers. Their occupation as a distinct trade originated
at a period coeval with the foundation of these public seminaries,
although the first mention that I am aware of is made by Peter of Blois,
about the year 1170. I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter of
this celebrated scholar, but I may be excused for giving the anecdote
here, as it is so applicable to my subject. It appears, then, that whilst
remaining in Paris to transact some important matter for the King of
England, he entered the shop of "a public dealer in books"--for be it
known that the archdeacon was always on the search, and seldom missed an
opportunity of adding to his library--the bookseller, Peter tells us,
offered him a tempting collection on Jurisprudence; but although his
knowledge of such matters was so great that he did not require them for
his own use, he thought they might be serviceable to his nephew, and
after bargaining a little about the price he counted down the money
agreed upon and left the stall; but no sooner was his back turned than
the Provost of Sexeburgh came in to look over the literary stores of the
stationer, and his eye meeting the recently sold volume, he became
inspired with a wish to possess it; nor could he, on hearing it was
bought and paid for by another, suppress his anxiety to obtain the
treasure; but, offering more money, actually took the volume away by
force. As may be supposed, Archdeacon Peter was sorely annoyed at this
behavior; and "To his dearest companion and friend Master Arnold of
Blois, Peter of Blois Archdeacon of Bath sent greeting," a long and
learned letter, displaying his great knowledge of civil law, and
maintaining the illegality of the provost's conduct.[64] The casual way
in which this is mentioned make it evident that the "_publico mangone
Librorum_" was no unusual personage in those days, but belonged to a
common and recognized profession.

The vast number of students who, by the foundation of universities, were
congregated together, generated of course a proportionate demand for
books, which necessity or luxury prompted them eagerly to purchase: but
there were poor as well as rich students educated in these great
seminaries of learning, whose pecuniary means debarred them from the
acquisition of such costly luxuries; and for this and other cogent
reasons the universities deemed it advantageous, and perhaps expedient,
to frame a code of laws and regulations to provide alike for the literary
wants of all classes and degrees. To effect this they obtained royal
sanction to take the trade entirely under their protection, and
eventually monopolized a sole legislative power over the _Librarii_.

In the college of Navarre a great quantity of ancient documents are
preserved, many of which relate to this curious subject. They were
deposited there by M. Jean Aubert in 1623, accompanied by an inventory of
them, divided into four parts by the first four letters of the alphabet.
In the fourth, under D. 18, there is a chapter entitled "Des Libraires
Appretiateurs, Jurez et Enlumineurs," which contains much interesting
matter relating to the early history of bookselling.[65] These ancient
statutes, collected and printed by the University in the year 1652,[66]
made at various times, and ranging between the years 1275 and 1403, give
us a clear insight into the matter.

The nature of a bookseller's business in those days required no ordinary
capacity, and no shallow store of critical acumen; the purchasing of
manuscripts, the work of transcription, the careful revisal, the
preparation of materials, the tasteful illuminations, and the process of
binding, were each employments requiring some talent and discrimination,
and we are not surprised, therefore, that the avocation of a dealer and
fabricator of these treasures should be highly regarded, and dignified
into a profession, whose followers were invested with all the privileges,
freedoms and exemptions, which the masters and students of the university
enjoyed.[67] But it required these conciliations to render the
restrictive and somewhat severe measures, which she imposed on the
bookselling trade, to be received with any degree of favor or submission.
For whilst the University of Paris, by whom these statutes were framed,
encouraged and elevated the profession of the librarii, she required, on
the other hand, a guarantee of their wealth and mental capacity, to
maintain and to appreciate these important concessions; the bookseller
was expected indeed to be well versed in all branches of science, and to
be thoroughly imbued with a knowledge of those subjects and works of
which he undertook to produce transcripts.[68] She moreover required of
him testimonials to his good character, and efficient security, ratified
by a solemn oath of allegiance,[69] and a promise to observe and submit
to all the present and future laws and regulations of the university. In
some cases, it appears that she restricted the number of librarii, though
this fell into disuse as the wants of the students increased. Twenty-four
seems to have been the original number,[70] which is sufficiently great
to lead to the conclusion that bookselling was a flourishing trade in
those old days. By the statutes of the university, the bookseller was
not allowed to expose his transcripts for sale, without first submitting
them to the inspection of certain officers appointed by the university,
and if an error was discovered, the copies were ordered to be burnt or a
fine levied on them, proportionate to their inaccuracy. Harsh and
stringent as this may appear at first sight, we shall modify our opinion,
on recollecting that the student was in a great degree dependent upon the
care of the transcribers for the fidelity of his copies, which rendered a
rule of this nature almost indispensable; nor should we forget the great
service it bestowed in maintaining the primitive accuracy of ancient
writers, and in transmitting them to us through those ages in their
original purity.[71]

In these times of free trade and unrestrained commercial policy, we shall
regard less favorably a regulation which they enforced at Paris,
depriving the bookseller of the power of fixing a price upon his own
goods. Four booksellers were appointed and sworn in to superintend this
department, and when a new transcript was finished, it was brought by the
bookseller, and they discussed its merits and fixed its value, which
formed the amount the bookseller was compelled to ask for it; if he
demanded of his customer a larger sum, it was deemed a fraudulent
imposition, and punishable as such. Moreover, as an advantage to the
students, the bookseller was expected to make a considerable reduction in
his profits in supplying them with books; by one of the laws of the
university, his profit on each volume was confined to four deniers to
student, and six deniers to a common purchaser. The librarii were still
further restricted in the economy of their trade, by a rule which forbade
any one of them to dispose of his entire stock of books without the
consent of the university; but this, I suspect, implied the disposal of
the stock and trade together, and was intended to intimate that the
introduction of the purchaser would not be allowed, without the
cognizance and sanction of the university.[72] Nor was the bookseller
able to purchase books without her consent, lest they should be of an
immoral or heretical tendency; and they were absolutely forbidden to buy
any of the students, without the permission of the rector.

But restricted as they thus were, the book merchants nevertheless grew
opulent, and transacted an important and extensive trade; sometimes they
purchased parts and sometimes they had whole libraries to sell.[73] Their
dealings were conducted with unusual care, and when a volume of peculiar
rarity or interest was to be sold, a deed of conveyance was drawn up with
legal precision, in the presence of authorized witnesses.

In those days of high prices and book scarcity, the poor student was
sorely impeded in his progress; to provide against these disadvantages,
they framed a law in 1342, at Paris, compelling all public booksellers to
keep books to lend out on hire. The reader will be surprised at the idea
of a circulating library in the middle ages! but there can be no doubt
of the fact, they were established at Paris, Toulouse, Vienna, and
Bologne. These public librarians, too, were obliged to write out regular
catalogues of their books and hang them up in their shops, with the
prices affixed, so that the student might know beforehand what he had to
pay for reading them. I am tempted to give a few extracts from these
lists:

    St. Gregory's Commentaries upon Job, for reading 100 pages, 8 sous.
    St. Gregory's Book of Homilies, 28 pages for 12 deniers.
    Isidore's De Summa bona, 24 pages, 12 deniers.
    Anselm's De Veritate de Libertate Arbitrii, 40 pages, 2 sous.
    Peter Lombard's Book of Sentences, 3 sous.
    Scholastic History, 3 sous.
    Augustine's Confessions, 21 pages, 4 deniers.
    Gloss on Matthew, by brother Thomas Aquinas, 57 pages, 3 sous.
    Bible Concordance, 9 sous.
    Bible, 10 sous.[74]

This rate of charge was also fixed by the university, and the students
borrowing these books were privileged to transcribe them if they chose;
if any of them proved imperfect or faulty, they were denounced by the
university, and a fine imposed upon the bookseller who had lent out the
volume.

This potent influence exercised by the universities over booksellers
became, in time, much abused, and in addition to these commercial
restraints, they assumed a still less warrantable power over the
original productions of authors; and became virtually the public censors
of books, and had the power of burning or prohibiting any work of
questionable orthodoxy. In the time of Henry the Second, a book was
published by being read over for two or three successive days, before one
of the universities, and if they approved of its doctrines and bestowed
upon it their approbation, it was allowed to be copied extensively for
sale.

Stringent as the university rules were, as regards the bookselling trade,
they were, nevertheless, sometimes disregarded or infringed; some
ventured to take more for a book than the sum allowed, and, by
prevarication and secret contracts, eluded the vigilance of the laws.[75]
Some were still bolder, and openly practised the art of a scribe and the
profession of a bookseller, without knowledge or sanction of the
university. This gave rise to much jealousy, and in the University of
Oxford, in the year 1373, they made a decree forbidding any person
exposing books for sale without her licence.[76]

Now, considering all these usages of early bookselling, their numbers,
their opulence, and above all, the circulating libraries which the
librarii established, can we still retain the opinion that books were so
inaccessible in those ante-printing days, when we know that for a few
sous the booklover could obtain good and authenticated copies to peruse,
or transcribe? It may be advanced that these facts solely relate to
universities, and were intended merely to insure a supply of the
necessary books in constant requisition by the students, but such was not
the case; the librarii were essentially public _Librorum Venditores_, and
were glad to dispose of their goods to any who could pay for them.
Indeed, the early bibliomaniacs usually flocked to these book marts to
rummage over the stalls, and to collect their choice volumes. Richard de
Bury obtained many in this way, both at Paris and at Rome.

Of the exact pecuniary value of books during the middle ages, we have no
means of judging. The few instances that have accidentally been recorded
are totally inadequate to enable us to form an opinion. The extravagant
estimate given by some as to the value of books in those days is merely
conjectural, as it necessarily must be, when we remember that the price
was guided by the accuracy of the transcription, the splendor of the
binding, which was often gorgeous to excess, and by the beauty and
richness of the illuminations.[77] Many of the manuscripts of the middle
ages are magnificent in the extreme. Sometimes they inscribed the gospels
and the venerated writings of the fathers with liquid gold, on parchment
of the richest purple,[78] and adorned its brilliant pages with
illuminations of exquisite workmanship.

The first specimens we have of an attempt to embellish manuscripts are
Egyptian. It was a common practice among them at first to color the
initial letter of each chapter or division of their work, and afterwards
to introduce objects of various kinds into the body of the manuscript.

The splendor of the ancient calligraphical productions of Greece,[79] and
the still later ones of Rome, bear repeated testimony that the practice
of this art had spread during the sixth century, if not earlier, to these
powerful empires. England was not tardy in embracing this elegant art. We
have many relics of remote antiquity and exquisite workmanship existing
now, which prove the talent and assiduity of our early Saxon forefathers.

In Ireland the illuminating art was profusely practised at a period as
early as the commencement of the seventh century, and in the eighth we
find it holding forth eminent claims to our respect by the beauty of
their workmanship, and the chastity of their designs. Those well versed
in the study of these ancient manuscripts have been enabled, by extensive
but minute observation, to point out their different characteristics in
various ages, and even to decide upon the school in which a particular
manuscript was produced.

These illuminations, which render the early manuscripts of the monkish
ages so attractive, generally exemplify the rude ideas and tastes of the
time. In perspective they are wofully deficient, and manifest but little
idea of the picturesque or sublime; but here and there we find quite a
gem of art, and, it must be owned, we are seldom tired by monotony of
coloring, or paucity of invention. A study of these parchment
illustrations afford considerable instruction. Not only do they indicate
the state of the pictorial art in the middle ages, but also give us a
comprehensive insight into the scriptural ideas entertained in those
times; and the bible student may learn much from pondering on these
glittering pages; to the historical student, and to the lover of
antiquities, they offer a verdant field of research, and he may obtain in
this way many a glimpse of the manners and customs of those old times
which the pages of the monkish chroniclers have failed to record.

But all this prodigal decoration greatly enhanced the price of books, and
enabled them to produce a sum, which now to us sounds enormously
extravagant. Moreover, it is supposed that the scarcity of parchment
limited the number of books materially, and prevented their increase to
any extent; but I am prone to doubt this assertion, for my own
observations do not help to prove it. Mr. Hallam says, that in
consequence of this, "an unfortunate practice gained ground of erasing a
manuscript in order to substitute another on the same skin. This
occasioned, probably, the loss of many ancient authors who have made way
for the legends of saints, or other ecclesiastical rubbish."[80] But we
may reasonably question this opinion, when we consider the value of books
in the middle ages, and with what esteem the monks regarded, in spite of
all their paganism, those "heathen dogs" of the ancient world. A doubt
has often forced itself upon my mind when turning over the "crackling
leaves" of many ancient MSS., whether the peculiarity mentioned by
Montfaucon, and described as parchment from which former writing had been
erased, may not be owing, in many cases, to its mode of preparation. It
is true, a great proportion of the membrane on which the writings of the
middle ages are inscribed, appear rough and uneven, but I could not
detect, through many manuscripts of a hundred folios--all of which
evinced this roughness--the unobliterated remains of a single letter. And
when I have met with instances, they appear to have been short
writings--perhaps epistles; for the monks were great correspondents, and,
I suspect, kept economy in view, and often carried on an epistolary
intercourse, for a considerable time, with a very limited amount of
parchment, by erasing the letter to make room for the answer. This,
probably, was usual where the matter of their correspondence was of no
especial importance; so that, what our modern critics, being emboldened
by these faint traces of former writing, have declared to possess the
classic appearance of hoary antiquity, may be nothing more than a
complimentary note, or the worthless accounts of some monastic
expenditure. But, careful as they were, what would these monks have
thought of "paper-sparing Pope," who wrote his Iliad on small pieces of
refuse paper? One of the finest passages in that translation, which
describes the parting of Hector and Andromache, is written on part of a
letter which Addison had franked, and is now preserved in the British
Museum. Surely he could afford, these old monks would have said, to
expend some few shillings for paper, on which to inscribe that for which
he was to receive his thousand pounds.

But far from the monastic manuscripts displaying a scantiness of
parchment, we almost invariably find an abundant margin, and a space
between each line almost amounting to prodigality; and to say that the
"vellum was considered more precious than the genius of the author,"[81]
is absurd, when we know that, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
a dozen skins of parchment could be bought for sixpence; whilst that
quantity written upon, if the subject possessed any interest at all,
would fetch considerably more, there always being a demand and ready sale
for books.[82] The supposition, therefore, that the monastic scribes
erased _classical_ manuscripts for the sake of the material, seems
altogether improbable, and certainly destitute of proof. It is true, many
of the classics, as we have them now, are but mere fragments of the
original work. For this, however, we have not to blame the monks, but
barbarous invaders, ravaging flames, and the petty animosities of civil
and religious warfare for the loss of many valuable works of the
classics. By these means, one hundred and five books of Livy have been
lost to us, probably forever. For the thirty which have been preserved,
our thanks are certainly due to the monks. It was from their unpretending
and long-forgotten libraries that many such treasures were brought forth
at the revival of learning, in the fifteenth century, to receive the
admiration of the curious, and the study of the erudite scholar. In this
way Poggio Bracciolini discovered many inestimable manuscripts. Leonardo
Aretino writes in rapturous terms on Poggio's discovery of a perfect copy
of Quintillian. "What a precious acquisition!" he exclaims, "what
unthought of pleasure to behold Quintillian perfect and entire!"[83] In
the same letter we learn that Poggio had discovered Asconius and Flaccus
in the monastery of St. Gall, whose inhabitants regarded them without
much esteem. In the monastery of Langres, his researches were rewarded by
a copy of Cicero's Oration for Cæcina. With the assistance of Bartolomeo
di Montepulciano, he discovered Silius Italicus, Lactantius, Vegetius,
Nonius Marcellus, Ammianus Marcellus, Lucretius, and Columella, and he
found in a monastery at Rome a complete copy of Turtullian.[84] In the
fine old monastery of Casino, so renowned for its classical library in
former days, he met with Julius Frontinus and Firmicus, and transcribed
them with his own hand. At Cologne he obtained a copy of Petronius
Arbiter. But to these we may add Calpurnius's Bucolic,[85] Manilius,
Lucius Septimus, Coper, Eutychius, and Probus. He had anxious hopes of
adding a perfect Livy to the list, which he had been told then existed in
a Cistercian Monastery in Hungary, but, unfortunately, he did not
prosecute his researches in this instance with his usual energy. The
scholar has equally to regret the loss of a perfect Tacitus, which Poggio
had expectations of from the hands of a German monk. We may still more
deplore this, as there is every probability that the monks actually
possessed the precious volume.[86] Nicolas of Treves, a contemporary and
friend of Poggio's, and who was infected, though in a slight degree, with
the same passionate ardor for collecting ancient manuscripts, discovered,
whilst exploring the German monasteries, twelve comedies of Plautus, and
a fragment of Aulus Gellius.[87] Had it not been for the timely aid of
these great men, many would have been irretrievably lost in the many
revolutions and contentions that followed; and, had such been the case,
the monks, of course, would have received the odium, and on their heads
the spleen of the disappointed student would have been prodigally
showered.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Martene Thesaurus novus Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1462.

[41] See Du Cange in Voc., vol. vi. p. 264.

[42] Anglia Sacra, ii. 635. Fosbrooke Brit. Monach., p. 15.

[43] Martene Thes. Nov. Anec. tom. iv. col. 1462. Stat. Ord.
     Cistere, anni 1278, they were allowed for "_Studendum vel
     recreandum_."

[44] Hildesh. episc apud Leibuit., tom. i. Script. Brunsvic, p. 444.
     I am indebted to Du Cange for this reference.

[45] King's Munimenta Antiqua. Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham, p. 64.

[46] Matt Paris, p. 51.

[47] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry, p. cxiv. Regest. Nig. St. Edmund.
     Abbat.

[48] Stevenson's Sup. to Bentham's Church of Norwich, 4to. 1817, p.
     51.

[49] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ritib., cap. xxi. tom. iii. p. 263.

[50] _Ibid._

[51] Alcuini Opera, tom. ii. vol. i. p. 211. Carmin xvii.

[52] Preface to Ælfric's Homilies MS. Lansdowne, No. 373, vol. iv.
     in the British Museum.

[53] Const. Can. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[54] MS. Harl. 6395, anecdote 348.--I am indebted to D'Israeli for
     the reference, but not for the extract.

[55] The monks were strictly enjoined by the monastic rules to study
     the Bible unceasingly. The Statutes of the Dominican order are
     particularly impressive on this point, and enforce a constant
     reading and critical study of the sacred volume, so as to fortify
     themselves for disputation; they were to peruse it continually, and
     apply to it before all other reading _semper ante aliam lectionem_.
     _Martene Thesan. Nov. Anecdot._, tom. iv. col. 1932. See also cols.
     1789, 1836, 1912, 1917, 1934.

[56] About the year 1225 Roger de Insula, Dean of York, gave several
     copies of the bible to the University of Oxford, and ordered that
     those who borrowed them for perusal should deposit property of equal
     value as a security for their safe return.--_Wood's Hist. Antiq.
     Oxon._ ii. 48.

[57] Muratori Dissert. Quadragesima tertia, vol. iii. column 849.

[58] Astle's Origin of Writing, p. 193.--See also Montfaucon
     Palæographia Græca, lib. iv. p. 263 et 319.

[59] In the year 1300 the pay of a common scribe was about one
     half-penny a day, see Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the
     Church of Ely. p. 51.

[60] In some orders the monks were not allowed to sell their books
     without the express permission of their superiors. According to a
     statute of the year 1264 the Dominicans were strictly prohibited
     from selling their books or the rules of their order.--_Martene
     Thesaur. Nov. Anecdot._ tom. iv. col. 1741, et col. 1918.

[61] Vita Abbat. Wear. Ed. Ware, p. 26. His fine copy of the
     Cosmographers he bought at Rome.--_Roma Benedictus emerat._

[62] Nosti quot Scriptores in Urbibus aut in Agris Italiæ passim
     habeantur.--Ep. cxxx. See also Ep. xliv. where he speaks of having
     purchased books in Italy, Germany and Belgium, at considerable cost.
     It is the most interesting Bibliomanical letter in the whole
     collection.

[63] Cottonian MS. in the Brit. Mus.--_Claudius_, E. iv. fo. 105, b.

[64] Epist. lxxi. p. 124, Edit. 4to. His words are--"Cum Dominus Rex
     Anglorum me nuper ad Dominum Regum Francorum nuntium distinasset,
     libri Legum venales Parisius oblati sunt mihi ab illo B. publico
     mangone librorum: qui cum ad opus cujusdam mei nepotis idoner
     viderentur conveni cum eo de pretio et eos apud venditorem
     dismittens, ei pretium numeravi; superveniente vero C. Sexburgensi
     Præposito sicut audini, plus oblulit et licitatione vincens libros
     de domo venditories per violentiam absportauit."

[65] Chevillier, Origines de l'Imprimerie de Paris, 4to. 1694, p.
     301.

[66] "Actes concernant le pouvoir et la direction de l'Université de
     Paris sur les Ecrivains de Livres et les Imprimeurs qui leur ont
     succédé comme aussi sur les Libraires Relieurs et Enlumineurs," 4to.
     1652, p. 44. It is very rare, a copy was in Biblioth. Teller, No.
     132, p. 428. A statute of 1275 is given by Lambecii Comment. de
     Augus. Biblioth. Cæsarea Vendobon, vol. ii. pp. 252-267. The
     booksellers are called "Stationarii or Librarii;" _de Stationariis,
     sive Librariis ut Stationarus, qui vulgo appellantur_, etc. See also
     _Du Cange_, vol. vi. col. 716.

[67] Chevillier, p. 301, to whom I am deeply indebted in this branch
     of my inquiry.

[68] Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84. Chevillier, p. 302.

[69] The form of oath is given in full in the statute of 1323, and
     in that of 1342, Chevillier.

[70] Du Breuil, Le Théâtre des Antiq. de Paris, 4to. 1612, p. 608.

[71] _Ibid._, Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84.

[72] Chevillier, p. 303.

[73] Martene Anecd. tom. i. p. 502. Hist. Lit. de la France, ix. p.
     142.

[74] Chevillier, 319, who gives a long list, printed from an old
     register of the University.

[75] Chevillier, 303.

[76] Vet. Stat. Universit. Oxoniæ, D. fol. 75. Archiv. Bodl.

[77] The Church of Norwich paid £22, 9s. for illuminating a Graduale
     and Consuetudinary in 1374.

[78] Isidore Orig., cap. ii.--Jerome, in his Preface to Job, writes,
     "_Habeant qui volunt veteres libros, vel in membranes purpurus auro
     argentique colore purpuros aurum liquiscit in literis._" Eddius
     Stephanus in his Life of St. Wilfrid, cap xvi., speaks of "Quatuor
     Evangeliæ de auro purissimo in membranis de purpuratis coloratis pro
     animæ suæ remidis scribere jusset." Du Cange, vol. iv. p. 654. See
     also Mabillon Act. Sanct., tom. v. p. 110, who is of opinion that
     these purple MSS. were only designed for princes; see Nouveau Traité
     de Diplomatique, and Montfaucon Palæog. Græc., pp. 45, 218, 226, for
     more on this subject.

[79] See a Fragment in the Brit. Mus. engraved in Shaw's Illuminated
     Ornaments, plate 1.

[80] Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 437. Mr. Maitland, in his "Dark Ages,"
     enters into a consideration of this matter with much critical
     learning and ingenuity.

[81] D'Israeli Amenities of Lit., vol. i. p. 358.

[82] The Precentor's accounts of the Church of Norwich contain the
     following items:--1300, 5 _dozen parchment_, 2_s._ 6_d._, 40 lbs. of
     ink, 4_s._ 4_d._, 1 gallon of vini decrili, 3_s._, 4 lbs. of
     corporase, 4 lbs. of galls, 2 lbs. of gum arab, 3_s._ 4_d._, to make
     ink. I dismiss these facts with the simple question they naturally
     excite: that if parchment was so _very scarce_, what on earth did
     the monk want with all this ink?

[83] Leonardi Aretini Epist. 1. iv. ep. v.

[84] Mehi Præfatio ad vit Ambrosii Traversarii, p. xxxix.

[85] Mehi Præf., pp. xlviii.--xlix.

[86] A MS. containing five books of Tacitus which had been deemed
     lost was found in Germany during the pontificate of Leo X., and
     deposited in the Laurentian library at Florence.--_Mehi Præf._ p.
     xlvii. See Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 104, to whom I am much
     indebted for these curious facts.

[87] Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 101.




CHAPTER IV.

     _Canterbury Monastery.--Theodore of
     Tarsus.--Tatwine.--Nothelm.--St.
     Dunstan.--Ælfric.--Lanfranc.--Anselm.--St. Augustine's
     books.--Henry de Estria and his
     Catalogue.--Chiclely.--Sellinge.--Rochester.--Gundulph, a Bible
     Student.--Radulphus.--Ascelin of Dover.--Glanvill, etc._


In the foregoing chapters I have endeavored to give the reader an insight
into the means by which the monks multiplied their books, the
opportunities they had of obtaining them, the rules of their libraries
and scriptoria, and the duties of a monkish librarian. I now proceed to
notice some of the English monastic libraries of the middle ages, and by
early records and old manuscripts inquire into their extent, and revel
for a time among the bibliomaniacs of the cloisters. On the spot where
Christianity--more than twelve hundred years ago--first obtained a
permanent footing in Britain, stands the proud metropolitan cathedral of
Canterbury--a venerable and lasting monument of ancient piety and monkish
zeal. St. Augustine, who brought over the glad tidings of the Christian
faith in the year 596, founded that noble structure on the remains of a
church which Roman Christians in remote times had built there. To write
the literary history of its old monastery would spread over more pages
than this volume contains, so many learned and bookish abbots are
mentioned in its monkish annals. Such, however, is beyond the scope of my
present design, and I have only to turn over those ancient chronicles to
find how the love of books flourished in monkish days; so that, whilst I
may here and there pass unnoticed some ingenious author, or only casually
remark upon his talents, all that relate to libraries or book-collecting,
to bibliophiles or scribes, I shall carefully record; and, I think, from
the notes now lying before me, and which I am about to arrange in
something like order, the reader will form a very different idea of
monkish libraries than he previously entertained.

The name that first attracts our attention in the early history of
Canterbury Church is that of Theodore of Tarsus, the father of
Anglo-Saxon literature, and certainly the first who introduced
bibliomania into this island; for when he came on his mission from Rome
in the year 668 he brought with him an extensive library, containing many
Greek and Latin authors, in a knowledge of which he was thoroughly
initiated. Bede tells us that he was well skilled in metrical art,
astronomy, arithmetic, church music, and the Greek and Latin
languages.[88] At his death[89] the library of Christ Church Monastery
was enriched by his valuable books, and in the time of old Lambarde some
of them still remained. He says, in his quaint way, "The Reverend Father
Mathew, nowe Archbishop of Canterburie, whose care for the conservation
of learned monuments can never be sufficiently commended, shewed me, not
long since, the Psalter of David, and sundrie homilies in Greek; Homer
also and some other Greeke authors beautifully wrytten on thicke paper,
with the name of this Theodore prefixed in the fronte, to whose librarie
he reasonably thought, being thereto led by shew of great antiquitie that
they sometimes belonged."[90]

Tatwine was a great book lover, if not a bibliomaniac. "He was renowned
for religious wisdom, and notably learned in Sacred Writ."[91] If he
wrote the many pieces attributed to him, his pen must have been prolific
and his reading curious and diversified. He is said to have composed on
profane and sacred subjects, but his works were unfortunately destroyed
by the Danish invaders, and a book of poems and one of enigmas are all
that have escaped their ravages. The latter work, preserved in our
National Library, contains many curious hints, illustrative of the
manners of those remote days.[92]

Nothelm, or the Bold Helm, succeeded this interesting author; he was a
learned and pious priest of London. The bibliomaniac will somewhat envy
the avocation of this worthy monk whilst searching over the rich
treasures of the Roman archives, from whence he gleaned much valuable
information to aid Bede in compiling his history of the English
Church.[93] Not only was he an industrious scribe but also a talented
author, if we are to believe Pits, who ascribes to him several works,
with a Life of St. Augustine.[94]

It is well known that St. Dunstan was an ingenious scribe, and so
passionately fond of books, that we may unhesitatingly proclaim him a
bibliomaniac. He was a native of Wessex, and resided with his father near
Glastonbury Abbey, which holy spot many a legendary tale rendered dear to
his youthful heart. He entered the Abbey, and devoted his whole time to
reading the wondrous lives and miracles of ascetic men till his mind
became excited to a state of insanity by the many marvels and prodigies
which they unfolded; so that he acquired among the simple monks the
reputation of one holding constant and familiar intercourse with the
beings of another world. On his presentation to the king, which was
effected by the influence of his uncle Athelm, Archbishop of Canterbury,
he soon became a great favorite, but excited so much jealousy there, that
evil reports were industriously spread respecting him. He was accused of
practising magical arts and intriguing with the devil. This induced him
to retire again into the seclusion of a monastic cell, which he
constructed so low that he could scarcely stand upright in it. It was
large enough, however, to hold his forge and other apparatus, for he was
a proficient worker in metals, and made ornaments, and bells for his
church. He was very fond of music, and played with exquisite skill upon
the harp.[95] But what is more to our purpose, his biographer tells us
that he was remarkably skilful in writing and illuminating, and
transcribed many books, adorning them with beautiful paintings, whilst in
this little cell.[96] One of them is preserved in the Bodleian Library at
Oxford. On the front is a painting of St. Dunstan kneeling before our
Saviour, and at the top is written "_Pictura et Scriptura hujus pagine
subtas visi est de propria manu sei Dunstani_."[97] But in the midst of
these ingenious pursuits he did not forget to devote many hours to the
study of the Holy Scriptures, as also to the diligent transcription and
correction of copies of them,[98] and thus arming himself with the sacred
word, he was enabled to withstand the numerous temptations which
surrounded him. Sometimes the devil appeared as a man, and at other times
he was still more severely tempted by the visitations of a beautiful
woman, who strove by the most alluring blandishments to draw that holy
man from the paths of Christian rectitude. In the tenth century such
eminent virtues could not pass unrewarded, and he was advanced to the
Archbishopric of Canterbury in the year 961, but his after life is that
of a saintly politician, and displays nothing that need be mentioned
here.

In the year 969,[99] Ælfric, abbot of St. Alban's, was elected archbishop
of Canterbury. His identity is involved in considerable doubt by the many
contemporaries who bore that name, some of whom, like him, were
celebrated for their talent and erudition; but, leaving the solution of
this difficulty to the antiquarian, we are justified in saying that he
was of noble family, and received his education under Ethelwold, at
Abingdon, about the year 960. He accompanied his master to Winchester,
and Elphegus, bishop of that see, entertained so high an opinion of
Ælfric's learning and capacity, that he sent him to superintend the
recently founded monastery of Cerne, in Devonshire. He there spent all
his hours, unoccupied by the duties of his abbatical office, in the
transcription of books and the nobler avocations of an author. He
composed a Latin Grammar, a work which has won for him the title of "_The
Grammarian_," and he greatly helped to maintain the purity of the
Christian church by composing a large collection of homilies, which
became exceedingly popular during the succeeding century, and are yet in
existence. The preface to these homilies contain several very curious
passages illustrative of the mode of publication resorted to by the
monkish authors, and on that account I am tempted to make the following
extracts:

"I, Ælfric, the scholar of Ethelwold, to the courteous and venerable
Bishop Sigeric, in the Lord.

"Although it may appear to be an attempt of some rashness and
presumption, yet have I ventured to translate this book out of the Latin
writers, especially those of the 'Holy Scriptures,' into our common
language; for the edification of the ignorant, who only understand this
language when it is either read or heard. Wherefore I have not used
obscure or unintelligible words, but given the plain English. By which
means the hearts, both of the readers and of the hearers, may be reached
more easily; because they are incapable of being otherwise instructed,
than in their native tongue. Indeed, in our translation, we have not ever
been so studious to render word for word, as to give the true sense and
meaning of our authors. Nevertheless, we have used all diligent caution
against deceitful errors, that we may not be found seduced by any heresy,
nor blinded by any deceit. For we have followed these authors in this
translation, namely, St. Austin of Hippo, St. Jerome, Bede, Gregory,
Smaragdus, and sometimes Haymo, whose authority is admitted to be of
great weight with all the faithful. Nor have we only expounded the
treatise of the gospels;... but have also described the passions and
lives of the saints, for the use of the unlearned of this nation. We have
placed forty discourses in this volume, believing this will be sufficient
for one year, if they be recited entirely to the faithful, by the
ministers of the Lord. But the other book which we have now taken in hand
to compose will contain those passions or treatises which are omitted in
this volume." ... "Now, if any one find fault with our translation, that
we have not always given word for word, or that this translation is not
so full as the treatise of the authors themselves, or that in handling of
the gospels we have run them over in a method not exactly conformable to
the order appointed in the church, let him compose a book of his own; by
an interpretation of deeper learning, as shall best agree with his
understanding, this only I beseech him, that he may not pervert this
version of mine, which I hope, by the grace of God, without any boasting,
I have, according to the best of my skill, performed with all diligence.
Now, I most earnestly entreat your goodness, my most gentle father
Sigeric, that you will vouchsafe to correct, by your care, whatever
blemishes of malignant heresy, or of dark deceit, you shall meet with in
my translation, and then permit this little book to be ascribed to your
authority, and not to the meanness of a person of my unworthy character.
Farewell in the Almighty God continually. Amen."[100]

I have before alluded to the care observed by the scribes in copying
their manuscripts, and the moderns may deem themselves fortunate that
they did so; for although many interpolations, or emendations, as they
called them, occur in monkish transcripts, on the whole, their integrity,
in this respect, forms a redeeming quality in connexion with their
learning. In another preface, affixed to the second collection of his
homilies, Ælfric thus explains his design in translating them:

"Ælfric, a monk and priest, although a man of less abilities than are
requisite for one in such orders, was sent, in the days of King Æthelred,
from Alphege, the bishop and successor of Æthelwold, to a monastery which
is called Cernel, at the desire of Æthelmer, the Thane, whose noble birth
and goodness is everywhere known. Then ran it in my mind, I trust,
through the grace of God, that I ought to translate this book out of the
Latin tongue into the English language not upon presumption of great
learning, but because I saw and heard much error in many English books,
which ignorant men, through their simplicity, esteemed great wisdom, and
because it grieved me that they neither knew, nor had the gospel learning
in their writing, except from those men that understood Latin, and those
books which are to be had of King Alfred's, which he skilfully translated
from Latin into English."[101]

From these extracts we may gain some idea of the state of learning in
those days, and they would seem, in some measure, to justify the opinion,
that the laity paid but little attention to such matters, and I more
anxiously present the reader with these scraps, because they depict the
state of literature in those times far better than a volume of conjecture
could do. It is not consistent with my design to enter into an analysis
of these homilies. Let the reader, however, draw some idea of their
nature from the one written for Easter Sunday, which has been deemed
sufficient proof that the Saxon Church ever denied the Romish doctrine of
transubstantiation; for he there expressly states, in terms so plain
that all the sophistry of the Roman Catholic writers cannot pervert its
obvious meaning, that the bread and wine is only typical of the body and
blood of our Saviour.

To one who has spent much time in reading the lives and writings of the
monkish theologians, how refreshing is such a character as that of
Ælfric's. Often, indeed, will the student close the volumes of those old
monastic writers with a sad, depressed, and almost broken heart; so often
will he find men who seem capable of better things, who here and there
breathe forth all the warm aspirations of a devout and Christian heart,
bowed down and grovelling in the dust, as it were, to prove their blind
submission to the Pope, thinking, poor fellows!--for from my very heart I
pity them--that by so doing they were preaching that humility so
acceptable to the Lord.

Cheering then, to the heart it is to find this monotony broken by such an
instance, and although we find Ælfric occasionally diverging into the
paths of papistical error, he spreads a ray of light over the gloom of
those Saxon days, and offers pleasing evidence that Christ never forsook
his church; that even amidst the peril and darkness of those monkish ages
there were some who mourned, though it might have been in a monastery,
submissive to a Roman Pontiff, the depravity and corruption with which
the heart of man had marred it.

To still better maintain the discipline of the church, he wrote a set of
canons, which he addressed to Wulfin, or Wulfsine, bishop of Sherbourne.
With many of the doctrines advocated therein, the protestant will not
agree; but the bibliophile will admit that he gave an indication of his
love of books by the 21st Canon, which directs that, "Before a priest can
be ordained, he must be armed with the sacred books, for the spiritual
battle, namely, a Psalter, Book of Epistles, Book of Gospels, the Missal
Book, Books of Hymns, the Manual, or Euchiridion, the Gerim, the
Passional, the Pænitential, and the Lectionary, or Reading Book; these
the diligent priest requires, and let him be careful that they are all
accurately written, and free from faults."[102]

About the same time, Ælfric wrote a treatise on the Old and New
Testaments, and in it we find an account of his labors in Biblical
Literature. He did more in laying open the holy mysteries of the gospel
to the perusal of the laity, by translating them into the Saxon tongue,
than any other before him. He gave them, in a vernacular version, the
Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges, Esther, Job, Judith, two Books of Maccabees,
and a portion of the Book of Kings, and it is for these labors, above all
others, that the bible student will venerate his name, but he will look,
perhaps, anxiously, hopefully, to these early attempts at Bible
propagation, and expect to observe the ecclesiastical orders, at least,
shake off a little of their absurd dependence on secondary sources for
biblical instruction. But, no; they still sadly clung to traditional
interpretation; they read the Word of God mystified by the fathers, good
men, many of them, devout and holy saints, but why approach God through
man, when we have His own prescription, in sweet encouraging words, to
come, however humble or lowly we may be, to His throne, and ask with our
own lips for those blessings so needful for the soul. Ælfric, in a letter
addressed to Sigwerd, prefixed to his Treatise on the Old and New
Testament, thus speaks of his biblical labors:

"Abbot Elfricke greeteth friendly, Sigwerd at last Heolon. True it is I
tell thee that very wise is he who speaketh by his doings; and well
proceedeth he doth with God and the world who furnisheth himselfe with
good works. And very plaine it is in holy scripture, that holy men
employed in well doing were in this world held in good reputation, and as
saints now enjoy the kingdom of heaven, and the remembrance of them
continueth for ever, because of their consent with God and relying on
him, carelesse men who lead their life in all idleness and so end it, the
memory of them is forgotten in holy writ, saving that the Old Testament
records their ill deeds and how they were therefore comdemned. Thou hast
oft entreated me for English Scripture .... and when I was with thee
great mone thou madest that thou couldst get none of my writings. Now
will I that thou have at least this little, since knowledge is so
acceptable to thee, and thou wilt have it rather than be altogether
without my books...... God bestoweth sevenfold grace on mankind, (whereof
I have already written in another English Treatise,) as the prophet
Isaiah hath recorded in the book of his prophesie." In speaking of the
remaining books of the Pentateuch, he does so in a cursory manner, and
excuses himself because he had "written thereof more at large." "The book
which Moses wrote, called the book of Joshua, sheweth how he went with
the people of Israel unto Abraham's country, and how he won it, and how
the sun stood still while he got the victory, and how he divided the
land; this book also I turned into English for prince Ethelverd, wherein
a man may behold the great wonders of God really fulfilled." ......
"After him known it is that there were in the land certaine judges over
Israel, who guided the people as it is written in the book of Judges
..... of this whoso hath desire to hear further, may read it in that
English book which I translated concerning the same." ..... "Of the book
of Kings, I have translated also some part into English," "the book of
Esther, I briefly after my manner translated into English," and "The
Widow Judith who overcame Holophernes, the Syrian General, hath her book
also, among these, concerning her own victory and _Englished according to
my skill for your example_, that ye men may also defend your country by
force of arms, against the invasion of a foreign host." "Two books of
Machabeus, to the glory of God, I have turned also into English, and so
read them, you may if you please, for your instruction." And at the end
we find him again admonishing the scribes to use the pen with
faithfulness. "Whosoever," says he, "shall write out this book, let him
write it according to the copy, and for God's love correct it, that it be
not faulty, less he thereby be discredited, and I shent."[103]

This learned prelate died on the 16th of November, 1006, after a life
spent thus in the service of Christ and the cause of learning; by his
will he bequeathed to the Abbey of St. Alban's, besides some landed
possessions, his little library of books;[104] he was honorably buried at
Abingdon, but during the reign of Canute, his bones were removed to
Canterbury.

Passing on a few years, we come to that period when a new light shone
upon the lethargy of the Saxons; the learning and erudition which had
been fostering in the snug monasteries of Normandy, hitherto
silent--buried as it were--but yet fast growing to maturity, accompanied
the sword of the Norman duke, and added to the glory of the conquering
hero, by their splendid intellectual endowments. All this emulated and
roused the Saxons from their slumber; and, rubbing their laziness away,
they again grasped the pen with the full nerve and energy of their
nature; a reaction ensued, literature was respected, learning prospered,
and copious work flowed in upon the scribes; the crackling of parchment,
and the din of controversy bespoke the presence of this revival in the
cloisters of the English monasteries; books, the weapons spiritual of the
monks, libraries, the magazines of the church militant were preserved,
amassed, and at last deemed indispensable.[105] Such was the effect on
our national literature of that gushing in of the Norman conquerors, so
deeply imbued with learning, so polished, and withal so armed with
classical and patristic lore were they.

Foremost in the rank we find the learned Lanfranc, that patron of
literature, that indefatigable scribe and anxious book collector, who was
endowed with an erudition far more deep and comprehensive than any other
of his day. He was born at Pavia, in 1005, and received there the first
elements of his education;[106] he afterwards went to Bologna, and from
thence to Avranches, where he undertook the education of many celebrated
scholars of that century, and instructed them in sacred and secular
learning, _in sacris et secularibus erudivi literis_.[107] Whilst
proceeding on a journey to Rome he was attacked by some robbers, who
maltreated and left him almost dead; in this condition he was found by
some peasants who conveyed him to the monastery of Bec; the monks with
their usual hospitable charity tended and so assiduously nourished him in
his sickness, that on his recovery he became one of their fraternity. A
few years after, he was appointed prior and founded a school there, which
did immense service to literature and science; he also collected a great
library which was renowned and esteemed in his day,[108] and he increased
their value by a critical revisal of their text. He was well aware that
in works so voluminous as those of the fathers, the scribes through so
many generations could not be expected to observe an unanimous
infallibility; but knowing too that even the most essential doctrines of
the holy and catholic church were founded on patristical authority, he
was deeply impressed with the necessity of keeping their writings in all
their primitive integrity; an end so desirable, well repaid the
tediousness of the undertaking, and he cheerfully spent much time in
collecting and comparing codices, in studying their various readings or
erasing the spurious interpolations, engendered by the carelessness or
the pious frauds of monkish scribes.[109] He lavished his care in a
similar manner on the Bible: considering the far distant period from
which that holy volume has descended to us, it is astounding that the
vicissitudes, the perils, the darkness of near eighteen hundred years,
have failed to mar the divinity of that sacred book; not all the blunders
of nodding scribes could do it, not all the monkish interpolations, or
the cunning of sectarian pens could do it, for in all times the faithful
church of Christ watched over it with a jealous care, supplied each
erasure and expelled each false addition. Lanfranc was one of the most
vigilant of these Scripture guards, and his own industry blest his church
with the bible text, purified from the gross handmarks of human meddling.
I learn, from the Benedictines of St. Maur, that there is still preserved
in the Abbey of St. Martin de Sécz, the first ten conferences of Cassian
corrected by the efficient hand of this great critical student, at the
end of the manuscript these words are written, "_Hucusque ago Lanfrancus
correxi_."[110] The works of St. Ambrose, on which he bestowed similar
care, are preserved in the library of St. Vincent du Mans.[111]

When he was promoted to the See of Canterbury, he brought with him a
copious supply of books, and spread the influence of his learning over
the English monasteries; but with all the cares inseparably connected
with the dignity of Primate of England, he still found time to gratify
his bookloving propensities, and to continue his critical labors; indeed
he worked day and night in the service of the church, _servitio
Ecclesiæ_, and in correcting the books which the scribes had
written.[112] From the profusion of his library he was enabled to lend
many volumes to the monks, so that by making transcripts, they might add
to their own stores--thus we know that he lent to Paulen, Abbot of St.
Albans, a great number, who kept his scribes hard at work transcribing
them, and built a scriptorium for the transaction of these pleasing
labors; but more of this hereafter.

Anselm, too, was a renowned and book-loving prelate, and if his pride and
haughtiness wrought warm dissensions and ruptures in the church, he often
stole away to forget them in the pages of his book. At an early age he
acquired this fondness for reading, and whilst engaged as a monkish
student, he applied his mind to the perusal of books with wonderful
perseverance, and when some favorite volume absorbed his attention, he
could scarce leave it night or day.[113] Industry so indefatigable
ensured a certain success, and he became eminent for his deep and
comprehensive learning; his epistles bear ample testimony to his
extensive reading and intimate acquaintance with the authors of
antiquity;[114] in one of his letters he praises a monk named Maurice,
for his success in study, who was learning _Virgil_ and some other old
writers, under Arnulph the grammarian.

All day long Anselm was occupied in giving wise counsel to those that
needed it; and a great part of the night _pars maxima noctis_ he spent in
correcting his darling volumes, and freeing them from the inaccuracies of
the scribes.[115] The oil in the lamp burnt low, still that bibliomaniac
studiously pursued his favorite avocation. So great was the love of
book-collecting engrafted into his mind, that he omitted no opportunity
of obtaining them--numerous instances occur in his epistles of his
begging the loan of some volume for transcription;[116] in more than one,
I think, he asks for portions of the Holy Scriptures which he was always
anxious to obtain to compare their various readings, and to enable him
with greater confidence to correct his own copies.

In the early part of the twelfth century, the monks of Canterbury
transcribed a vast number of valuable manuscripts, in which they were
greatly assisted by monk Edwine, who had arrived at considerable
proficiency in the calligraphical art, as a volume of his transcribing,
in Trinity college, Cambridge, informs us;[117] it is a Latin Psalter,
with a Saxon gloss, beautifully illuminated in gold and colors; at the
end appears the figure of the monkish scribe, holding the pen in his hand
to indicate his avocation, and an inscription extols his ingenuity in the
art.[118]

Succeeding archbishops greatly enriched the library at Canterbury. Hubert
Walter, who was appointed primate in 1191, gave the proceeds of the
church of Halgast to furnish books for the library;[119] and Robert
Kildwardly, archbishop in 1272, a man of great learning and wisdom, a
remarkable orator and grammarian, wrote a great number of books, and was
passionately fond of collecting them.[120]

I learn from Wanley, that there is a large folio manuscript in the
library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, written about the time of Henry V. by
a monk of St. Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, containing the history of
Christ Church; this volume proves its author to have been something of a
bibliophile, and that is why I mention it, for he gives an account of
some books then preserved, which were sent over by Pope Gregory to St.
Augustine; these precious volumes consisted of a Bible in two volumes,
called "Biblia Gregorian," beautifully written, with some of the leaves
tinted with purple and rose-color, and the capital letters rubricated.
This interesting and venerable MS. so immediately connected with the
first ages of the Christian church of Britain, was in existence in the
time of James I., as we learn by a passage in a scarce tract entitled "A
Petition Apologetical," addressed by the Catholics to his majesty, where,
as a proof that we derive our knowledge of Scripture originally from the
church of Rome; they say, "The very original Bible, the self-same
_Numero_ which St. Gregory sent in with our apostle, St. Augustine, being
as yet reserved by God's special providence, as testimony that what
Scriptures we have, we had them from Rome."[121]

He next mentions two Psalters, one of which I have seen; it is among the
manuscripts in the Cotton collection,[122] and bears full evidence of its
great antiquity. This early gem of biblical literature numbers 160
folios; it contains the Roman Psalter, with a Saxon interlinear
translation, written on stout vellum, in a clear, bold hand. On opening
the volume, we find the first page enriched with a dazzling specimen of
monkish skill--it is a painting of our Saviour pointing with his right
hand to heaven, and in his left holding the sacred book; the corners are
occupied with figures of animals, and the whole wrought on a glittering
ground work, is rendered still more gorgeous by the contrast which the
purple robes of Jesus display; on the reverse of this fine illumination
there is a beautiful tesselated ornament, interwoven with animals,
flowers, and grotesque figures, around which are miniatures of our
Saviour, David, and some of the apostles. In a line at the bottom the
word CATVSVIR is inscribed. Very much inferior to this in point of art is
the illumination, at folio 31, representing David playing his harp,
surrounded by a musical coterie; it is probably the workmanship of a more
modern, but less skilful scribe of the Saxon school. The smaller
ornaments and initial letters throughout the manuscript display great
intricacy of design.

The writer next describes two copies of the Gospels, both now in the
Bodleian Collection at Oxford. A Passionarium Sanctorum, a book for the
altar, on one side of which was the image of our Saviour wrought in gold,
and lastly, an exposition of the Epistles and Gospels; the monkish
bookworm tells us that these membraneous treasures were the most ancient
books in all the churches of England.[123]

A good and liberal monk, named Henry De Estria, who was elected prior in
the year 1285, devoted both his time and wealth to the interests of his
monastery, and is said to have expended £900 in repairing the choir and
chapter-house.[124] He wrote a book beginning, "_Memoriale Henerici
Prioris Monasteri Xpi Cantuariæ_,"[125] now preserved in the Cotton
collection; it contains the most extensive monastic catalogue I had ever
seen, and sufficiently proves how Bibliomania flourished in that noble
monastery. It occupies no less than thirty-eight treble-columned folio
pages, and contains the titles of more than three thousand works. To
attempt to convey to the reader an idea of this curious and sumptuous
library, without transcribing a large proportion of its catalogue, I am
afraid will be a futile labor; but as that would occupy too much space,
and to many of my readers be, after all, dry and uninteresting, I shall
merely give the names of some of the most conspicuous. Years indeed it
must have required to have amassed a collection so brilliant and superb
in those days of book scarcity. Surprise and wonder almost surpass the
admiration we feel at beholding this proud testimonial of monkish
industry and early bibliomania. Many a choice scribe, and many an _Amator
Librorum_ must have devoted his pen and purse to effect so noble an
acquisition. Like most of the monastic libraries, it possessed a great
proportion of biblical literature--copies of the Bible whole and in
parts, commentaries on the same, and numerous glossaries and concordances
show how much care the monks bestowed on the sacred writings, and how
deeply they were studied in those old days. In patristic learning the
library was unusually rich, embracing the most eminent and valuable
writings of the Fathers, as may be seen by the following names, of whose
works the catalogue enumerates many volumes:

    Augustine.
    Ambroise.
    Anselm.
    Alcuin.
    Aldelm.
    Benedict.
    Bernard.
    Bede.
    Beranger.
    Chrysostom.
    Eusebius.
    Fulgentius.
    Gregory.
    Hillarius.
    Isidore.
    Jerome.
    Lanfranc.
    Origen.

Much as we may respect them for all this, our gratitude will materially
increase when we learn how serviceable the monks of Canterbury were in
preserving the old dead authors of Greece and Rome. We do not, from the
very nature of their lives being so devoted to religion and piety, expect
this; and knowing, too, what "heathen dogs" the monks thought these
authors of idolatry, combined with our notion, that they, far from being
the conservers, were the destroyers, of classic MSS., for the sake, as
some tell us, of the parchment on which they were inscribed, we are
somewhat staggered in our opinion to find in their library the following
brilliant array of the wise men of the ancient world:

    Aristotle,
    Boethius,
    Cicero,
    Cassiodorus,
    Donatus,
    Euclid,
    Galen,
    Justin,
    Josephus,
    Lucan,
    Martial,
    Marcianus,
    Macrobius,
    Orosius,
    Plato,
    Priscian,
    Prosper,
    Prudentius,
    Suetonius,
    Sedulus,
    Seneca,
    Terence,
    Virgil,
    Etc., etc.

Nor were they mere fragments of these authors, but, in many cases,
considerable collections; of Aristotle, for instance, they possessed
numerous works, with many commentaries upon him. Of Seneca a still more
extensive and valuable one; and in the works of the eloquent Tully, they
were also equally rich. Of his _Paradoxa, de Senectute, de Amiticia_,
etc., and _his Offices_, they had more copies than one, a proof of the
respect and esteem with which he was regarded. In miscellaneous
literature, and in the productions of the middle age writers, the
catalogue teems with an abundant supply, and includes:

    Rabanus Maurus,
    Thomas Aquinas,
    Peter Lombard,
    Athelard,
    William of Malmsbury,
    John of Salisbury,
    Girald Barry,
    Thomas Baldwin,
    Brutus,
    Robert Grosetete,
    Gerlandus,
    Gregory Nazianzen,
    History of England,
    Gesti Alexandri Magni,
    Hystoria Longobardos,
    Hystoriæ Scholasticæ,
    Chronicles _Latine et Anglice_,
    Chronographia Necephori.

But I trust the reader will not rest satisfied with these few samples of
the goodly store, but inspect the catalogue for himself. It would occupy,
as I said before, too much space to enumerate even a small proportion of
its many treasures, which treat of all branches of literature and
science, natural history, medicine, ethics, philosophy, rhetoric,
grammar, poetry, and music; each shared the studious attention of the
monks, and a curious "_Liber de Astronomia_" taught them the rudiments of
that sublime science, but which they were too apt to confound with its
offspring, astrology, as we may infer, was the case with the monks of
Canterbury, for their library contained a "_Liber de Astroloebus_,"
and the "Prophesies of Merlin."

Many hints connected with the literary portion of a monastic life may
sometimes be found in these catalogues. It was evidently usual at Christ
Church Monastery to keep apart a number of books for the private study of
the monks in the cloister, which I imagine they were at liberty to use at
any time.[126]

A portion of the catalogue of monk Henry is headed "_Lib. de Armariole
Claustre_,"[127] under which it is pleasing to observe a Bible, in two
volumes, specified as for the use of the infirmary, with devotional
books, lives of the fathers, a history of England, the works of Bede,
Isidore, Boethius, Rabanus Maurus, Cassiodorus, and many others of equal
celebrity. In another portion of the manuscript, we find a list of their
church books, written at the same time;[128] it affords a brilliant proof
of the plentitude of the gospels among them; for no less than twenty-five
copies are described. We may judge to what height the art of bookbinding
had arrived by the account here given of these precious volumes. Some
were in a splendid coopertoria of gold and silver, and others exquisitely
ornamented with figures of our Saviour and the four Evangelists.[129] But
this extravagant costliness rendered them attractive objects to pilfering
hands, and somewhat accounts for the lament of the industrious Somner,
who says that the library was "shamefully robbed and spoiled of them
all."[130]

Our remarks on the monastic library at Canterbury are drawing to a close.
Henry Chiclely, archbishop in 1413, an excellent man, and a great
promoter of learning, rebuilt the library of the church, and furnished it
with many a choice tome.[131] His esteem for literature was so great,
that he built two colleges at Oxford.[132] William Sellinge, who was a
man of erudition, and deeply imbued with the book-loving mania, was
elected prior in 1472. He is said to have studied at Bonania, in Italy;
and, during his travels, he gathered together "all the ancient authors,
both Greek and Latine, he could get," and returned laden with them to his
own country. Many of them were of great rarity, and it is said that a
Tully _de Republica_ was among them. Unfortunately, they were all burnt
by a fire in the monastery.[133]

I have said enough, I think, to show that books were eagerly sought
after, and deeply appreciated, in Canterbury cloisters during the middle
ages, and when the reader considers that these facts have been preserved
from sheer accident, and, therefore, only enable us to obtain a partial
glimpse of the actual state of their library, he will be ready to admit
that bibliomania existed then, and will feel thankful, too, that it did,
for to its influence, surely, we are indebted for the preservation of
much that is valuable and instructive in history and general
literature.[134]

We can scarcely leave Kent without a word or two respecting the church of
the Rochester monks. It was founded by King Ethelbert, who conferred upon
it the dignities of an episcopal see, in the year 600; and, dedicating it
to St. Andrew, completed the good work by many donations and emoluments.
The revenues of the see were always limited, and it is said that its
poverty caused it to be treated with kind forbearance by the
ecclesiastical commissioners at the period of the Reformation.

I have not been able to meet with any catalogue of its monastic library,
and the only hints I can obtain relative to their books are such as may
be gathered from the recorded donations of its learned prelates and
monks. In the year 1077, Gundulph, a Norman bishop, who is justly
celebrated for his architectural talents, rebuilt the cathedral, and
considerable remains of this structure are still to be seen in the nave
and west front, and display that profuse decoration united with ponderous
stability, for which the Norman buildings are so remarkable. This
munificent prelate also enriched the church with numerous and costly
ornaments; the encouragement he gave to learning calls for some notice
here. Trained in one of the most flourishing of the Norman schools, we
are not surprised that in his early youth he was so studious and
inquisitive after knowledge as to merit the especial commendation of his
biographer.[135] William of Malmsbury, too, highly extols him "for his
abundant piety," and tells us that he was not inexperienced in literary
avocations; he was polished and courageous in the management of judicial
affairs, and a close, devoted student of the divine writings;[136] as a
scribe he was industrious and critical, and the great purpose to which he
applied his patience and erudition was a careful revisal of the Holy
Scriptures. He purged the sacred volume of the inadvertencies of the
scribes, and restored the purity of the text; for transcribing after
transcribing had caused some errors and diversity of readings to occur,
between the English and foreign codices, in spite of all the pious care
of the monastic copyists; this was perplexing, an uniformity was
essential and he undertook the task;[137] labors so valuable deserve the
highest praise, and we bestow it more liberally upon him for this good
work than we should have done had he been the compiler of crude homilies
or the marvellous legends of saints. The high veneration in which
Gundulph held the patristic writings induced him to bestow his attention
in a similar manner upon them, he compared copies, studied their various
readings and set to work to correct them. The books necessary for these
critical researches he obtained from the libraries of his former master,
Bishop Lanfranc, St. Anselm, his schoolfellow, and many others who were
studying at Bec, but besides this, he corrected many other authors, and
by comparing them with ancient manuscripts, restored them to their
primitive beauty. Fabricius[138] notices a fine volume, which bore ample
testimony to his critical erudition and dexterity as a scribe. It is
described as a large Bible on parchment, written in most beautiful
characters, it was proved to be his work by this inscription on its title
page, "_Prima pars Bibliæ per bona memoriæ Gundulphum Rossensem
Episcopum_." This interesting manuscript, formerly in the library of the
monks of Rochester, was regarded as one of their most precious volumes.
An idea of the great value of a Bible in those times may be derived from
the curious fact that the bishop made a decree directing "excommunication
to be pronounced against whosoever should take away or conceal this
volume, or who should even dare to conceal the inscription on the front,
which indicated the volume to be the property of the church of
Rochester." But we must bear in mind that this was no ordinary copy, it
was transcribed by Gundulph's own pen, and rendered pure in its text by
his critical labors. But the time came when anathemas availed nought, and
excommunication was divested of all terror. "Henry the Eighth," the
"Defender of the Faith," frowned destruction upon the monks, and in the
tumult that ensued, this treasure was carried away, anathema and all.
Somehow or other it got to Amsterdam, perhaps sent over in one of those
"shippes full," to the bookbinders, and having passed through many hands,
at last found its way into the possession of Herman Van de Wal,
Burgomaster of Amsterdam; since then it was sold by public auction, but
has now I believe been lost sight of.[139] Among the numerous treasures
which Gundulph gave to his church, he included a copy of the Gospels, two
missals and a book of Epistles.[140] Similar books were given by
succeeding prelates; Radolphus, a Norman bishop in 1108, gave the monks
several copies of the gospels beautifully adorned.[141] Earnulphus, in
the year 1115, was likewise a benefactor in this way; he bestowed upon
them, besides many gold and silver utensils for the church, a copy of the
gospels, lessons for the principal days, a benedictional, or book of
blessings, a missal, handsomely bound, and a capitular.[142] Ascelin,
formerly prior of Dover, and made bishop of Rochester, in the year 1142,
gave them a Psalter and the Epistles of St. Paul, with a gloss.[143] He
was a learned man, and excessively fond of books; a passion which he had
acquired no doubt in his monastery of Dover which possessed a library of
no mean extent.[144] He wrote a commentary on Isaiah, and gave it to the
monastery; Walter, archdeacon of Canterbury, who succeeded Ascelin, gave
a copy of the gospels bound in gold, to the church;[145] and Waleran,
elected bishop in the year 1182, presented them with a glossed Psalter,
the Epistles of Paul, and the Sermons of Peter.[146]

Glanvill, bishop in the year 1184, endeavored to deprive the monks of the
land which Gundulph had bestowed upon them; this gave to rise to many
quarrels[147] which the monks never forgave; it is said that he died
without regret, and was buried without ceremony; yet the curious may
still inspect his tomb on the north side of the altar, with his effigies
and mitre lying at length upon it.[148] Glanvill probably repented of his
conduct, and he strove to banish all animosity by many donations; and
among other treasures, he gave the monks the five books of Moses and
other volumes.[149]

Osbern of Shepey, who was prior in the year 1189, was a great scribe and
wrote many volumes for the library; he finished the Commentary of
Ascelin, transcribed a history of Peter, a Breviary for the chapel, a
book called _De Claustra animæ_, and wrote the great Psalter which is
chained to the choir and window of St. Peter's altar.[150] Ralph de Ross,
and Heymer de Tunebregge,[151] also bestowed gifts of a similar nature
upon the monks; but the book anecdotes connected with this monastic
fraternity are remarkably few, barren of interest, and present no very
exalted idea of their learning.[152]

FOOTNOTES:

[88] Bede, iv. cap. ii.

[89] He died in 690, and was succeeded by Bertwold, Abbot of
     Reculver, _Saxon Chronicle, Ingram_, p. 57. Bede speaks of Bertwold
     as "well learned in Scripture and Ecclesiastical
     Literature."--_Eccl. Hist._ b. v. c. viii.

[90] Preambulation of Kent, 4to. 1576, p. 233. Parker's Ant. Brit.
     p. 80.

[91] He was consecrated on the 10th of June, 731, Bede, v. c. xxiii.

[92] M.S. Reg. 12, c. xxiii. I know of no other copy. Leland says
     that he saw a copy at Glastonbury.

[93] Bede's Eccl. Hist. Prologue.

[94] Pitseus Angliæ Scrip. 1619, p. 141. Dart's Hist. Canterbury, p.
     102.

[95] Cottonian MS. Cleopatra, B. xiii. fo. 70.

[96] W. Malm, de Vita, Dunst. ap. Leland, Script. tom. 1. p. 162.
     Cotton. MS. Fanstin, B. 13.

[97] Strutt's Saxon. Antiq. vol. 1, p. 105, plate xviii. See also
     Hicke's Saxon Grammar, p. 104.

[98] MS. Cotton., Cleop. b. xiii. fo. 69. Mabd. Acta Sancto. vii.
     663.

[99] Saxon Chron. by Ingram, 171.

[100] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv.

[101] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv.

[102] Can. 21, p. 577, vol. i.

[103] Lisle's Divers Ancient Monuments in the Saxon Tongue, 4to.
      Lond. 1638, p. 43.

[104] MS. Cottonian Claudius, b. vi. p. 103; Dart's Hist. of Cant.
      p. 112.; Dugdale's Monast., vol. i. p. 517.

[105] There was an old saying, and a true one, prevalent in those
      days, that a monastery without a library was like a castle without
      an armory, _Clastrum sine armario, quasi castrum sine armamentario_.
      See letter of Gaufredi of St. Barbary to Peter Mangot, _Martene
      Thes. Nov. Anecd._, tom. i. col. 511.

[106] Mabillon, Act. S., tom. ix. p. 659.

[107] Ep. i. ad Papæ Alex.

[108] Vita Lanfr., c. vi. "_Effulsit eo majistro, obedientia coactu,
      philosophicarum ac divinarum litterarum bibliotheca, etc._" Opera p.
      8. Edit. folio, 1648.

[109] "Et quia scripturæ scriptorum vitio erant ninium corruptæ,
      omnes tam Veteris, quam Novi Testamenti libros; necnon etiam scriptæ
      sanctorum patrum secundum orthodoxam fidem studuit corrigere." Vita
      Lanfr. cap. 15, ap. Opera, p. 15.

[110] Hist. Litt. de la France, vol. vii. p. 117.

[111] _Ibid._ "Il rendit de même service à trois écrits de S.
      Ambrose l'Hexameron, l'apologie de David et le traité des
      Sacrements, tels qu'on les voit à la bibliothèque de St. Vincent du
      Mans."

[112] _Ibid._

[113] Malmsb. de Gest. Pontif. b. i. p. 216.

[114] See Epist. 16. Lib. i.

[115] Edmer. Vit. Anselm, apud Anselm Opera.--_Edit. Benedict_,
      1721, b. i. p. 4.

[116] Epp. 10-20, lib. i. and 24 b. ii.

[117] Codic. fol. first class, a dextr. Sc. Med. 5.

[118] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry. Dissert, ii.

[119] Dart's Canterb. p. 132. Dugdale's Monast. vol. i. p. 85.

[120] There is, or was, in St. Peter's college, Cambridge, a MS.
      volume of 21 books, which formerly belonged to this worthy
      Bibliophile.--_Dart_, p. 137.

[121] Petition Apol. 4to. 1604, p. 17.

[122] Brit. Mus. Vesp. A. i.

[123] Wanley Librorum Vett Septentrionalium fol. Oxon, 1705, p. 172.

[124] Dugdale's Monast. Angl. vol. i. p. 112.

[125] MS. Cot. Galba. E. iv.

[126] See what has been said on this subject in the previous
      chapter.

[127] MS. Galla, E. iv. fol. 133.

[128] MS. fol. 122.

[129] _Textus Magnus auro coopertus et gemmis ornatus, cum majistate
      in media, et 4 Evangelistis in 4 Angulis. Ibid._

[130] Somner Antiq. Cant. 4to. 1640, p. 174, he is speaking of books
      in general.

[131] Duck Vita Chich. p. 104.

[132] Dugdale, vol. i. p. 86. Dart, p. 158, and Somner Ant. Cant.
      174.

[133] Somner, 294 and 295; see also Leland Scriptor. He was well
      versed in the Greek language, and his monument bears the following
      line:

         "Doctor theologus Selling Græca atque Latina,
          Linqua perdoctus."--See Warton's Hist. Poet., ii. p. 425.


[134] There is a catalogue written in the sixteenth century,
      preserved among the Cotton MS., containing the titles of seventy
      books belonging to Canterbury Library. It is printed in Leland
      Collect. vol. iv. p. 120, and in Dart's Hist. Cant. Cath.; but they
      differ slightly from the Cott. MS. Julius, c. vi. 4, fol. 99.

[135] Monachus Roffensis de Vita Gundulphi, 274.

[136] Will. Malms. de Gest. Pont. Ang. ap Rerum. Ang. Script, 133.

[137] Histoire Littéraire de Fr., tom. vii. p. 118.

[138] Biblioth. Latine, b. vii. p. 519.

[139] Hist. Litt. de Fr., tom. ix. p. 373.

[140] Thorpe Regist. Roffens, fol. 1769, p. 118.

[141] Wharton Angl. Sacr., tom. 1, p. 342.

[142] Thorpe Regist. Rof., p. 120. Dugdale's Monast., vol. 1, p.
      157.

[143] Thorpe Reg. Rof., p. 121.

[144] A catalogue of this library is preserved among the Bodleian
      MSS. No. 920, containing many fine old volumes. I am not aware that
      it has been ever printed.

[145] "Textum Evangeliorum aureum." Reg. Rof., p. 121.

[146] _Ibid._, p. 121.

[147] Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. 1, p. 156.

[148] Wharton's Ang. Sac, tom. 1, p. 346.

[149] Thorpe Reg. Rof., p. 121.

[150] Thorpe Reg. Rof., 121. Dugdale's Monast., vol. i. p. 158.

[151] Reg. Rof., pp. 122, 123.

[152] In a long list of gifts by Robert de Hecham, I find "librum
      Ysidore ethimologiarum possuit in armarium claustri et alia plura
      fecit."--_Thorpe Reg. Rof._, p. 123.




CHAPTER V.

     _Lindesfarne.--St. Cuthbert's Gospels.--Destruction of the
     Monastery.--Alcuin's Letter on the occasion.--Removal to
     Durham.--Carelepho.--Catalogue of Durham Library.--Hugh de
     Pusar.--Anthony Bek.--Richard de Bury and his Philobiblon, etc._


The Benedictine monastery of Lindesfarne, or the Holy Island, as it was
called, was founded through the instrumentality of Oswald, the son of
Ethelfrith, king of Northumberland, who was anxious for the promulgation
of the Christian faith within his dominions. Aidan, the first bishop of
whom we have any distinct account, was appointed about the year 635. Bede
tells us that he used frequently to retire to the Isle of Farne, that he
might pray in private and be undisturbed.[153] This small island, distant
about nine miles from the church of Lindesfarne, obtained great
celebrity from St. Cuthbert, who sought that quiet spot and led there a
lonely existence in great continence of mind and body.[154] In 685 he was
appointed to the see of Lindesfarne, where, by his pious example and
regular life, he instructed many in their religious duties. The name of
this illustrious saint is intimately connected with a most magnificent
specimen of calligraphical art of the eighth century, preserved in the
British Museum,[155] and well known by the name of the Durham Book, or
Saint Cuthbert's Gospels; it was written some years after the death of
that Saint, in honor of his memory, by Egfrith, a monk of Lindesfarne,
who was made bishop of that see in the year 698. At Egfrith's death in
721, his successor, Æthilwald, most beautifully bound it in gold and
precious stones, and Bilfrid, a hermit, richly illuminated it by
prefixing to each gospel a beautiful painting representing one of the
Evangelists, and a tesselated cross, executed in a most elaborate manner.
He also displayed great skill by illuminating the large capital letters
at the commencement of each gospel.[156] Doubtless, the hermit Bilfrid
was an eminent artist in his day. Aldred, the Glossator, a priest of
Durham, about the year 950, still more enriched this precious volume by
interlining it with a Saxon Gloss, or version of the Latin text of St.
Jerome, of which the original manuscript is a copy.[157] It is
therefore, one of the most venerable of those early attempts to render
the holy scriptures into the vernacular tongue, and is on that account an
interesting relic to the Christian reader, and, no doubt, formed the
choicest volume in the library of Lindesfarne.[158]

But imperfectly, indeed, have I described the splendid manuscript which
is now lying, in all its charms, before me. And as I mark its fine old
illuminations, so bright in color, and so chaste in execution, the
accuracy of its transcription, and the uniform beauty of its calligraphy,
my imagination carries me back to the quiet cloister of the old Saxon
scribe who wrote it, and I can see in Egfrith, a bibliomaniac, of no mean
pretensions, and in Bilfrid, a monkish illuminator, well initiated in the
mysteries of his art. The manuscript contains 258 double columned folio
pages, and the paintings of the Evangelists each occupy an entire page.
We learn the history of its production from a very long note at the end
of the manuscript, written by the hand of the glossator.[159]

But sad misfortunes were in store for the holy monks, for about 793, or a
little earlier, when Highbald was abbot, the Danes burnt down the
monastery and murdered the ecclesiastics; "most dreadful lightnings and
other prodigies," says Simeon of Durham, "are said to have portended the
impending ruin of this place; on the 7th of June they came to the church
of Lindesfarne, miserably plundered all places, overthrew the altars, and
carried away all the treasures of the church, some of the monks they
slew, some they carried away captives, some they drowned in the sea, and
others much afflicted and abused they turned away naked."[160]
Fortunately some of the poor monks escaped, and after a short time
returned to their old spot, and with religious zeal set about repairing
the damage which the sacred edifice had sustained; after its restoration
they continued comparatively quiet till the time of Eardulfus, when the
Danes in the year 875, again invaded England and burned down the
monastery of Lindesfarne. The monks obtained some knowledge of their
coming and managed to effect their escape, taking with them the body of
St. Cuthbert, which they highly venerated, with many other honored
relics; they then set out with the bishop Eardulfus and the abbot Eadrid
at their head on a sort of pilgrimage to discover some suitable resting
place for the remains of their saint; but finding no safe locality, and
becoming fatigued by the irksomeness of the journey, they as a last
resource resolved to pass over to Ireland. For this purpose they
proceeded to the sea, but no sooner were they on board the ship than a
terrific storm arose, and had it not been for the fond care of their
patron saint, a watery grave would have been forever their resting
place; but, as it was, their lives were spared, and the holy bones
preserved to bless mankind, and work wondrous miracles in the old church
of the Saxon monks. Nevertheless, considerable damage was sustained, and
the fury of the angry waves forced them back again to the shore. The
monks deeming this an indication of God's will that they should remain,
decided upon doing so, and leaving the ship, they agreed to proceed on
their way rejoicing, and place still greater trust in the mercy of God
and the miraculous influence of St. Cuthbert's holy bones; but some whose
reliance on Divine providence appears not so conspicuous, became
dissatisfied, and separated from the rest till at last only seven monks
were left besides their bishop and abbot. Their relics were too numerous
and too cumbersome to be conveyed by so small a number, and they knew not
how to proceed; but one of the seven whose name was Hanred had a vision,
wherein he was told that they should repair to the sea, where they would
find a book of Gospels adorned with gold and precious stones, which had
been lost out of the ship when they were in the storm; and that after
that he should see a bridle hanging on a tree, which he should take down
and put upon a horse that would come to him, which horse he should put to
a cart he would also find, to carry the holy body, which would be an ease
to them. All these things happening accordingly, they travelled with more
comfort, following the horse, which way soever he should lead. The book
above mentioned was no ways damaged by the water, and is still preserved
in the library at Durham,[161] where it remained till the Reformation,
when it was stript of its jewelled covering, and after passing through
many hands, ultimately came into the possession of Sir Robert Cotton, in
whose collection, as we have said before, it is now preserved in the
British Museum.

I cannot refrain, even at the risk of incurring some blame for my
digression, presenting the reader with a part of a letter full of
fraternal love, which Alcuin addressed to the monks of Lindesfarne on
this sad occasion.

"Your dearest fraternity," says he, "was wont to afford me much joy. But
now how different! though absent, I deeply lament the more your
tribulations and calamities; the manner in which the Pagans contaminate
the sanctuaries of God, and shed the blood of saints around the altar,
devastating the joy of our house, and trampling on the bodies of holy men
in the temple of God, as though they were treading on a dunghill in the
street. But of what effect is our wailing unless we come before the
altars of Christ and cry, 'Spare me, O Lord! spare thy people, and take
not thine inheritance from them;' nor let the Pagans say, 'Where is the
God of the Christians?' Besides who is to pacify the churches of Britain,
if St. Cuthbert cannot defend them with so great a number of saints?
Nevertheless do not trouble the mind about these things, for God
chasteneth all the sons whom he receiveth, and therefore perhaps afflicts
you the more, because he the more loveth you. Jerusalem, the delightful
city of God, was lost by the Chaldean scourge; and Rome, the city of the
holy Apostles and innumerable martyrs, was surrounded by the Pagans and
devastated. Well nigh the whole of Europe is evacuated by the scourging
sword of the Goths or the Huns. But in the same manner in which God
preserved the stars to illuminate the heavens, so will He preserve the
churches to ornament, and in their office to strengthen and increase the
Christian religion."[162]

Thus it came to pass that Eardulphus was the last bishop of Lindesfarne
and the first of Cunecacestre, or Chester-upon-the-Street, to which place
his see was removed previous to its final settlement at Durham.

After a succession of many bishops, some recorded as learned and bookish
by monkish annalists, and nearly all benefactors in some way to their
church, we arrive at the period when Aldwine was consecrated bishop of
that see in the year 990. The commotions of his time made his presidency
a troubled and harassing one. Sweyn, king of Denmark, and Olauis, king of
Norway, invaded England, and spreading themselves in bodies over the
kingdom, committed many and cruel depredations; a strong body of these
infested the northern coast, and approached the vicinity of
Chester-on-the-Street. This so alarmed Aldwine, that he resolved to quit
his church--for the great riches and numerous relics of that holy place
were attractive objects to the plundering propensities of the invaders.
Carrying, therefore, the bones of St. Cuthbert with them--for that box of
mortal dust was ever precious in the sight of those old monks--and the
costly treasures of the church, not forgetting their books, the monks
fled to Ripon, and the see, which after similar adversities their
predecessors one hundred and thirteen years ago had settled at Chester,
was forever removed. It is true three or four months after, as Symeon of
Durham tells us, they attempted to return, but when they reached a place
called Werdelan, "on the east and near unto Durham," they could not move
the bier on which the body of St. Cuthbert was carried, although they
applied their united strength to effect it. The superstition, or perhaps
simplicity, of the monks instantly interpreted this into a manifestation
of divine interference, and they resolved not to return again to their
old spot. And we are further told that after three days' fasting and
prayer, the Lord vouchsafed to reveal to them that they should bear the
saintly burden to Durham, a command which they piously and cheerfully
obeyed. Having arrived there, they fixed on a wild and uncultivated site,
and making a simple oratory of wattles for the temporary reception of
their relics, they set zealously to work--for these old monks well knew
what labor was--to cut down wood, to clear the ground, and build an
habitation for themselves. Shortly after, in the wilderness of that
neglected spot, the worthy bishop Aldwine erected a goodly church of
stone to the honor of God, and as a humble tribute of gratitude and love;
and so it was that Aldwine, the last bishop of Chester-on-the-Street,
was the first of Durham.

When William Carelepho, a Norman monk, was consecrated bishop, the church
had so increased in wealth and usefulness, that fresh wants arose, more
space was requisite, and a grander structure would be preferable; the
bishop thereupon pulled the old church of Aldwine down and commenced the
erection of a more magnificent one in its place, as the beauty of Durham
cathedral sufficiently testifies even now; and will not the lover of
artistic beauty award his praise to the Norman bishop--those massive
columns and stupendous arches excite the admiring wonder of all; built on
a rocky eminence and surrounded by all the charms of a romantic scenery,
it is one of the finest specimens of architecture which the enthusiasm of
monkish days dedicated to piety and to God. Its liberal founder however
did not live to see it finished, for he died in the year 1095, two years
after laying its foundation stone. His bookloving propensities have been
honorably recorded, and not only was he fond of reading, but kept the
pens of the scribes in constant motion, and used himself to superintend
the transcription of manuscripts, as the colophon of a folio volume in
Durham library fully proves.[163] The monkish bibliophiles of his church
received from him a precious gift of about 40 volumes, containing among
other valuable books Prosper, Pompeii, Tertullian, and a great Bible in
two volumes.[164]

It would have been difficult perhaps to have found in those days a body
of monks so "bookish" as those of Durham; not only did they transcribe
with astonishing rapidity, proving that there was no want of vellum
there, but they must have bought or otherwise collected a great number of
books; for the see of Durham, in the early part of the 12th century,
could show a library embracing nearly 300 volumes.[165]

Nor let the reader imagine that the collection possessed no merit in a
literary point of view, or that the monks cared for little else save
legends of saints or the literature of the church; the catalogue proves
them to have enjoyed a more liberal and a more refined taste, and again
display the cloistered students of the middle ages as the preservers of
classic learning. This is a point worth observing on looking over the old
parchment catalogues of the monks; for as by their Epistles we obtain a
knowledge of their intimacy with the old writers, and the use they made
of them, so by their catalogues we catch a glimpse of the means they
possessed of becoming personally acquainted with their beauties; by the
process much light may be thrown on the gloom of those long past times,
and perhaps we shall gain too a better view of the state of learning
existing then. But that the reader may judge for himself, I extract the
names of some of the writers whom the monks of Durham preserved and
read:

    Alcuin.
    Ambrose.
    Aratores.
    Anselm.
    Augustine.
    Aviany.
    Bede.
    Boethius.
    Bernard.
    Cassian.
    Cassiodorus.
    Claudius.
    Cyprian.
    Donatus.
    Esop.
    Eutropius.
    Galen.
    Gregory.
    Haimo.
    Horace.
    Homer.
    Hugo.
    Juvenal.
    Isidore.
    Josephus.
    Lucan.
    Marcianus.
    Maximian.
    Orosius.
    Ovid.
    Prudentius.
    Prosper.
    Persius.
    Priscian.
    Peter Lombard.
    Plato.
    Pompeius Trogus.
    Quintilian.
    Rabanus.
    Solinus.
    Servius.
    Statius.
    Terence.
    Tully.
    Theodulus.
    Virgil.
    Gesta Anglorum.
    Gesta Normanorum.

Hugh de Pussar,[166] consecrated bishop in 1153, is the next who attracts
our attention by his bibliomanical renown. He possessed perhaps the
finest copy of the Holy Scriptures of any private collector; and he
doubtless regarded his "_unam Bibliam in_ iv. _magnis voluminibus_," with
the veneration of a divine and the fondness of a student. He collected
what in those times was deemed a respectable library, and bequeathed no
less than sixty or seventy volumes to the Durham monks, including his
great Bible, which has ever since been preserved with religious care;
from a catalogue of them we learn his partiality for classical
literature; a Tully, Sedulus, Priscian, and Claudius, are mentioned among
them.[167]

Anthony Bek, who was appointed to the see in the year 1283, was a most
ambitious and haughty prelate, and caused great dissensions in his
church. History proves how little he was adapted for the responsible
duties of a bishop, and points to the field of battle or civil pomp as
most congenial to his disposition. He ostentatiously displayed the
splendor of a Palatine Prince, when he contributed his powerful aid to
the cause of his sovereign, in the Scottish war, by a retinue of 500
horse, 1000 foot, 140 knights, and 26 standard bearers,[168] rendered
doubly imposing in those days of saintly worship and credulity, by the
patronage of St. Cuthbert, under whole holy banner they marched against a
brave and noble foe. His arbitrary temper caused sad quarrels in the
cloister, which ultimately gave rise to a tedious law proceeding between
him and the prior about the year 1300;[169] from a record of this affair
we learn that the bishop had borrowed some books from the library which
afterwards he refused to return; there was among them a Decretal, a
history of England, a Missal, and a volume called "The book of St.
Cuthbert, in which the secrets of the monastery are written," which was
alone valued at £200,[170] probably in consideration of the important and
delicate matters contained therein.

These proceedings were instituted by prior Hoton, who was fond of books,
and had a great esteem for learning; he founded a college at Oxford for
the monkish students of his church.[171] On more than one occasion he
sent parcels of books to Oxford; in a list of an early date it appears
that the monks of Durham sent at one time twenty volumes, and shortly
after fifteen more, consisting principally of church books and lives of
saints.[172] The numbers thus taken from their library the monks, with
that love of learning for which they were so remarkable, anxiously
replaced, by purchasing about twenty volumes, many of which contained a
great number of small but choice pieces.[173]

Robert de Graystane, a monk of Durham, was elected bishop by the prior
and chapter, and confirmed on the 10th of November, 1333, but the king,
Edward III., wishing to advance his treasurer to that see, refused his
sanction to the proceeding; monk Robert was accordingly deposed, and
Richard Angraville received the mitre in his stead. He was consecrated on
the 19th of December in the same year, by John Stratford, archbishop of
Canterbury, and installed by proxy on the 10th of January, 1334.

Angraville, Aungerville, or as he is more commonly called Richard de
Bury, is a name which every bibliophile will honor and esteem; he was
indeed a bibliomaniac of the first order, and a sketch of his life is not
only indispensable here, but cannot fail to interest the book-loving
reader. But before entering more at large into his bookish propensities
and talents, it will be necessary to say something of his early days and
the illustrious career which attended his political and ecclesiastical
life. Richard de Bury, the son of Sir Richard Angraville, was born, as
his name implies, at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, in the year 1287.[174]

Great attention was paid to the instruction of his youthful mind by his
maternal uncle, John de Willowby, a priest, previous to his removal to
Oxford. At the university he obtained honorable distinction, as much for
his erudition and love of books as for the moral rectitude of his
behavior. These pleasing traits were the stepping stones to his future
greatness, and on the strength of them he was selected as one fully
competent to undertake the education of Edward Prince of Wales,
afterwards the third king of that name; and to Richard de Bury "may be
traced the love for literature and the arts displayed by his pupil when
on the throne. He was rewarded with the lucrative appointment of
treasurer of Gascony."[175]

When Edward, the prince of Wales, was sent to Paris to assume the
dominion of Guienne, which the king had resigned in his favor, he was
accompanied by queen Isabella, his mother, whose criminal frailty, and
afterwards conspiracy, with Mortimer, aroused the just indignation of her
royal husband; and commenced those civil dissensions which rendered the
reign of Edward II. so disastrous and turbulent. It was during these
commotions that Richard de Bury became a zealous partizan of the queen,
to whom he fled, and ventured to supply her pecuniary necessities from
the royal revenues; for this, however, he was surrounded with imminent
danger; for the king, instituting an inquiry into these proceedings,
attempted his capture, which he narrowly escaped by secreting himself in
the belfry of the convent of Brothers Minor at Paris.[176]

When the "most invincible and most magnificent king" Edward III. was
firmly seated upon the throne, dignity and power was lavishly bestowed on
this early bibliomaniac. In an almost incredible space of time he was
appointed cofferer to the king, treasurer of the wardrobe, archdeacon of
Northampton, prebendary of Lincoln, Sarum, Litchfield, and shortly
afterwards keeper of the privy seal, which office he held for five years.
During this time he twice undertook a visit to Italy, on a mission to the
supreme pontiff, John XXII., who not only entertained him with honor and
distinction, but appointed him chaplain to his principal chapel, and gave
him a bull, nominating him to the first vacant see in England.

He acquired whilst there an honor which reflected more credit than even
the smiles of his holiness--the brightest of the Italian poets, Petrarch
of never dying fame--bestowed upon him his acquaintance and lasting
friendship. De Bury entered Avignon for the first time in the same year
that Petrarch took up his residence there, in the house of Colonna,
bishop of Lombes: two such enlightened scholars and indefatigable book
collectors, sojourning in the same city, soon formed an intimacy.[177]
How interesting must their friendly meetings have been, and how
delightful the hours spent in Petrarch's library, which was one of great
extent and rarity; and it is probable too that De Bury obtained from the
poet a few treasures to enrich his own stores; for the generosity of
Petrarch was so excessive, that he could scarcely withhold what he knew
was so dearly coveted. His benevolence on one occasion deprived him and
posterity of an inestimable volume; he lent some manuscripts of the
classics to his old master, who, needing pecuniary aid, pawned them, and
Cicero's books, _De Gloria_, were in this manner irrecoverably lost.[178]
Petrarch acted like a true lover of learning; for when the shadows of old
age approached, he presented his library, full of rare and ancient
manuscripts, many of them enriched by his own notes, to the Venetian
Senate, and thus laid the foundation of the library of Saint-Marc; he
always employed a number of transcribers, who invariably accompanied him
on his journeys, and he kept horses to carry his books.[179] His love of
reading was intense. "Whether," he writes in one of his epistles, "I am
being shaved, or having my hair cut, whether I am riding on horseback or
taking my meals, I either read myself or get some one to read to me; on
the table where I dine, and by the side of my bed, I have all the
materials for writing."[180] With the friendship of such a student, how
charming must have been the visit of the English ambassador, and how much
valuable and interesting information must he have gleaned by his
intercourse with Petrarch and his books. At Rome Richard de Bury obtained
many choice volumes and rare old manuscripts of the classics; for at Rome
indeed, at that time, books had become an important article of commerce,
and many foreign collectors besides the English bibliomaniac resorted
there for these treasures: to such an extend was this carried on, that
the jealousy of Petrarch was aroused, who, in addressing the Romans,
exclaims: "Are you not ashamed that the wrecks of your ancient grandeur,
spared by the inundation of the barbarians, are daily sold by your
miscalculating avarice to foreigners? And that Rome is no where less
known and less loved than at Rome?"[181]

The immense ecclesiastical and civil revenues which Aungraville enjoyed,
enabled him whilst in Italy to maintain a most costly and sumptuous
establishment: in his last visit alone he is said to have expended 5,000
marks, and he never appeared in public without a numerous retinue of
twenty clerks and thirty-six esquires; an appearance which better became
the dignity of his civil office, than the Christian humility of his
ecclesiastical functions. On his return from this distinguished sojourn,
he was appointed, as we have said before, through the instrumentality of
Edward III., to the bishopric of Durham. But not content with these high
preferments, his royal master advanced him to still greater honor, and on
the 28th of September, 1334, he was made Lord Chancellor of England,
which office he filled till the 5th of June, 1335, when he exchanged it
for that of high treasurer. He was twice appointed ambassador to the king
of France, respecting the claims of Edward of England to the crown of
that country. De Bury, whilst negociating this affair, visited Antwerp
and Brabant for the furtherance of the object of his mission, and he
fully embraced this rare opportunity of adding to his literary stores,
and returned to his fatherland well laden with many choice and costly
manuscripts; for in all his perilous missions he carried about with him,
as he tells us, that love of books which many waters could not
extinguish, but which greatly sweetened the bitterness of peregrination.
Whilst at Paris he was especially assiduous in collecting, and he relates
with intense rapture, how many choice libraries he found there full of
all kinds of books, which tempted him to spend his money freely; and with
a gladsome heart he gave his dirty lucre for treasures so inestimable to
the bibliomaniac.

Before the commencement of the war which arose from the disputed claims
of Edward, Richard de Bury returned to enjoy in sweet seclusion his
bibliomanical propensities. The modern bibliophiles who know what it is
to revel in the enjoyment of a goodly library, luxuriant in costly
bindings and rich in bibliographical rarities, who are fully susceptible
to the delights and exquisite sensibilities of that sweet madness called
bibliomania, will readily comprehend the multiplied pleasures of that
early and illustrious bibliophile in the seclusion of Auckland Palace; he
there ardently applied his energies and wealth to the accumulation of
books; and whilst engaged in this pleasing avocation, let us endeavor to
catch a glimpse of him. Chambre, to whom we are indebted for many of the
above particulars, tells us that Richard de Bury was learned in the
governing of his house, hospitable to strangers, of great charity, and
fond of disputation with the learned, but he principally delighted in a
multitude of books, _Iste summe delectabatur multitudine librorum_,[182]
and possessed more books than all the bishops put together, an assertion
which requires some modification, and must not be too strictly regarded,
for book collecting at that time was becoming a favorite pursuit; still
the language of Chambre is expressive, and clearly proves how extensive
must have been his libraries, one of which he formed in each of his
various palaces, _diversis maneriis_. So engrossed was that worthy bishop
with the passion of book collecting, that his dormitory was strewed
_jucebant_ with them, in every nook and corner choice volumes were
scattered, so that it was almost impossible for any person to enter
without placing his feet upon some book.[183] He kept in regular
employment no small assemblage of antiquaries, scribes, bookbinders,
correctors, illuminators, and all such persons who were capable of being
useful in the service of books, _librorum servitiis utiliter_.[184]

During his retirement he wrote a book, from the perusal of which the
bibliomaniac will obtain a full measure of delight and instruction. It is
a faithful record of the life and experience of this bibliophile of the
olden time. He tells us how he collected his vellum treasures--his
"crackling tomes" so rich in illuminations and calligraphic art!--how he
preserved them, and how he would have others read them. Costly indeed
must have been the book gems he amassed together; for foreign countries,
as well as the scribes at home, yielded ample means to augment his
stores, and were incessantly employed in searching for rarities which his
heart yearned to possess. He completed his Philobiblon at his palace at
Auckland on the 24th of January, 1344.[185]

We learn from the prologue to this rare and charming little volume how
true and genuine a bibliomaniac was Richard de Bury, for he tells us
there, that a vehement love _amor excitet_ of books had so powerfully
seized all the faculties of his mind, that dismissing all other
avocations, he had applied the ardor of his thoughts to the acquisition
of books. Expense to him was quite an afterthought, and he begrudged no
amount to possess a volume of rarity or antiquity. Wisdom, he says, is an
infinite treasure _infinitus thesaurus_, the value of which, in his
opinion, was beyond all things; for how, he asks, can the sum be too
great which purchases such vast delight. We cannot admire the purity of
his Latin so much as the enthusiasm which pervades it; but in the eyes of
the bibliophile this will amply compensate for his minor imperfections.
When expatiating on the value of his books he appears to unbosom, as it
were, all the inward rapture of love. A very _helluo librorum_--a very
Maliabechi of a collector, yet he encouraged no selfish feeling to alloy
his pleasure or to mingle bitterness with the sweets of his avocation.
His knowledge he freely imparted to others, and his books he gladly lent.
This is apparent in the Philobiblon; and his generous spirit warms his
diction--not always chaste--into a fluent eloquence. His composition
overflows with figurative expressions, yet the rude, ungainly form on
which they are moulded deprive them of all claim to elegance or
chastity; but while the homeliness of his diction fails to impress us
with an idea of his versatility as a writer, his chatty anecdotal style
rivets and keeps the mind amused, so that we rise from the little book
with the consciousness of having obtained much profit and satisfaction
from its perusal. Nor is it only the bibliomaniac who may hope to taste
this pleasure in devouring the sweet contents of the Philobiblon; for
there are many hints, many wise sayings, and many singular ideas
scattered over its pages, which will amuse or instruct the general reader
and the lover of olden literature. We observe too that Richard de Bury,
as a writer, was far in advance of his age, and his work manifests an
unusual freedom and independence of mind in its author; for although
living in monkish days, when the ecclesiastics were almost supreme in
power and wealth, he was fully sensible of the vile corruptions and
abominations which were spreading about that time so fearfully among some
of the cloistered devotees--the spotless purity of the primitive times
was scarce known then--and the dark periods of the middle ages were
bright and holy, when compared with the looseness and carnality of those
turbulent days. Richard de Bury dipped his pen in gall when he spoke of
these sad things, and doubtless many a revelling monk winced under the
lashing words he applied to them; not only does he upbraid them for their
carelessness in religion, but severely reprimands their inattention to
literature and learning. "The monks," he says, "in the present day seem
to be occupied in emptying cups, not in correcting codices, _Calicibus
epotandis, non codicibus emendandis_, which they mingle with the
lascivious music of Timotheus, and emulate his immodest manners, so that
the sportive song _cantus ludentis_, and not the plaintive hymn, proceeds
from the cells of the monks. Flocks and fleeces, grain and granaries,
gardens and olives, potions and goblets, are in this day lessons and
studies of the monks, except some chosen few."[186] He speaks in equally
harsh terms of the religious mendicants. He accuses them of forgetting
the words and admonitions of their holy founder, who was a great lover of
books. He wishes them to imitate the ancient members of that fraternity,
who were poor in spirit, but most rich in faith. But it must be
remembered, that about this time the mendicant friars were treated with
undeserved contempt, and much ill feeling rose against them among the
clergy, but the clergy were somewhat prejudiced in their judgment. The
order of St. Dominic, which a century before gloried in the approbation
of the pope, and in the enjoyment of his potential bulls, now winced
under gloomy and foreboding frowns. The sovereign Pontiff Honorius III.
gratefully embraced the service of these friars, and confirmed their
order with important privileges. His successor, Gregory IX., ratified
these favors to gain their useful aid in propping up the papal power, and
commanded the ecclesiastics by a bull to receive these "well-beloved
children and preaching friars" of his, with hospitality and respect.
Thus established, they were able to bear the tossings to and fro which
succeeding years produced; but in Richard de Bury's time darker clouds
were gathering--great men had severely chastized them with their pens and
denounced them in their preachings. Soon after a host of others sprang
up--among the most remarkable of whom were Johannes Poliaco, and
Fitzralph, Archbishop of Armagh, who was a dear friend and chaplain of
Richard de Bury's and many learned disputations were carried on between
them.[187] The celebrated oration of Fitzralph's, cited in the presence
of the pope, was a powerful blow to the mendicant friars--an examination
of the matter has rather perplexed than cleared the subject, and I find
it difficult which side to favor, the clergy seem to denounce the begging
friars more from envy and interested motives, for they looked with
extreme jealousy at the encroachments they had made upon their
ecclesiastical functions of confession, absolution, etc., so profitable
to the church in those days. In these matters the church had hitherto
reserved a sole monopoly, and the clergy now determined to protect it
with all the powers of oratorial denunciation; but, looking beyond this
veil of prejudice, I am prone to regard them favorably, for their intense
love of books, which they sought for and bought up with passionate
eagerness. Fitzralph, quite unintentionally, bestows a bright compliment
upon them, and as it bears upon our subject and illustrates the learning
of the time, I am tempted to give a few extracts; he sorely laments the
decrease of the number of students in the university of Oxford; "So,"
says he, "that yet in my tyme, in the universitie of Oxenford, were
thirty thousand Scolers at ones; and now beth unnethe[188] sixe
thousand."[189] All the blame of this he lays to the friars, and accuses
them of doing "more grete damage to learning." "For these orders of
beggers, for endeless wynnynges that thei geteth by beggyng of the
forseide pryvyleges of schriftes and sepultures and othere, thei beth now
so multiplyed in conventes and in persons. That many men tellith that in
general studies unnethe, is it founde to sillynge a profitable book of ye
faculte of art, of dyvynyte, of lawe canon, of phisik, other of lawe
civil, but alle bookes beth y-bougt of Freres, so that en ech convent of
Freres is a noble librarye and a grete,[190] and so that ene rech Frere
that hath state in scole, siche as thei beth nowe, hath an hughe
librarye. And also y-sent of my Sugettes[191] to scole thre other foure
persons, and hit is said me that some of them beth come home azen for
thei myst nougt[192] finde to selle ovn goode Bible; nother othere
couenable[193] books." This strange accusation proves how industriously
the friars collected books, and we cannot help regarding them with much
esteem for doing so. Richard de Bury fully admits his obligations to the
mendicants, from whom he obtained many choice transcripts. "When indeed,"
says he, "we happened to turn aside to the towns and places where the
aforesaid paupers had convents, we were not slack in visiting their
chests and other repositories of books, for there, amidst the deepest
poverty, we found the most exalted riches treasured up; there, in their
satchells and baskets, we discovered not only the crumbs that fell from
the master's table for the little dogs, but indeed the shew bread without
leaven, the bread of angels, containing in itself all that is
delectable;" and moreover, he says, that he found these friars "not
selfish hoarders, but meet professors of enlightened knowledge."[194]

In the seventh chapter of his work, he deplores the sad destruction of
books by war and fire, and laments the loss of the 700,000 volumes, which
happened in the Alexandrian expedition; but the eighth chapter is the one
which the bibliomaniac will regard with the greatest interest, for
Richard de Bury tells us there how he collected together his rich and
ample library. "For although," he writes, "from our youth we have ever
been delighted to hold special and social communion with literary men and
lovers of books, yet prosperity attending us, having obtained the notice
of his maje

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